


Sounds Like a Case For... Trixie Espinoza!

by NotOneLine



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Trixie Espinoza, Deckerstar - Freeform, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 05, Michael is a dick, POV Trixie Espinoza, Post-Lucifer (TV) Season/Series 04, Post-Season/Series 04, Smart Trixie Espinoza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25649650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotOneLine/pseuds/NotOneLine
Summary: Lucifer is back, but he's no longer the same Devil he once was.Sometimes it feels like he's a completely different person!As his behaviour grows stranger, Trixie's suspicions only get stronger.What happened to her friend? Why is he acting so weird?Trixie is determined to find out...(Now complete)
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker & Trixie Espinoza, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Lucifer Morningstar, Trixie Espinoza & Mazikeen
Comments: 480
Kudos: 856
Collections: LUCIFER_FICS_





	1. The Missing Hug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [violent_ends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/gifts).



It started with a hug.

Lucifer was back. He was _back_ , and the overwhelming joy she felt over that one piece of news made all the sadness of the last six months disappear in an instant. And right along with it, the anger that had lingered underneath it all. Because, _boy_ , was she angry. He left without even saying goodbye, and it hurt. She missed him. She missed him even _before_ he went away. What with all that time Mom spent with Marcus, the weird trip to Rome, and Lucifer getting a new girlfriend… well, over the last couple of years, she had barely seen him. And then he went away, and this time, Mom said he was never coming back.

She knew where he went, of course. Mom never talked about it, but Maze certainly did. Although 'talking' probably wasn't the right way to describe it. There was a lot of shouting, plenty of screaming, and, once or twice, even some crying—not that she was supposed to tell anyone about that. Maze threw every single swear word in Lilim that Trixie knew in Lucifer's direction, and then some on top of that. At first, it stung, the thought that her best friend wanted to leave her too. But then Maze explained that she didn't, that she _wouldn't,_ not now… but that didn't mean she wasn't still mad, because Lucifer never gave her a choice.

Instead, he abandoned her, when he promised he never would.

Trixie understood. She had cops for parents; her life was filled with broken promises and disappointment. It didn't mean she didn't still love her mom and dad… but she knew how painful it was to be forgotten, especially by someone you loved. And although she would never admit it, Maze loved Lucifer. A lot. They were family, just like her and Maze were.

But the way Mom loved him was different.

Trixie didn't have many memories of when her parents were happy, but she did remember the way her mom used to look at her dad. It was the same way she looked at Lucifer now, and the same way he had always looked at her, whether he knew it or not. When he went back to Hell, she had never seen Mom so devastated. It was like the light went out in her eyes. For weeks, Trixie was the one having to keep things going, with only Maze and Dad around to help out when they could. Dad, well, he was still busy with work, as always, and Maze… she had Charlie, and bounty hunting, and LUX to look after now. Technically, that was supposed to be Amenadiel's job, but according to Maze, he didn't have a clue what he was doing.

When she told Mom how much she missed her friend though, she said the last thing Lucifer would have wanted was his club's reputation ruined, and that Maze was just trying to honour that.

She spoke about him like he was dead. They all did.

And so, she got angry. Angry that Lucifer was gone. Angry at what his absence did to Mom, to Maze, _and_ to her. Angry that everyone had given up on him ever coming back.

Maze helped her with that anger. After her mom threw herself back work—just like she always did when she was upset—and Lucifer's brother finally started to get the hang of running LUX, her best friend was around a lot more. And Maze being around more, that meant training. Every time Mom got home from a stakeout, she would return to find more artwork hiding blade marks on the walls, and a roaring fire no matter how hot it had been that day. She had no idea that it was fueled with drawing after drawing of men in black suits with red pocket squares, each one almost torn to pieces after repeatedly being used for target practice. Trixie could barely keep up with producing the amount of pictures they needed for the nights Maze was babysitting, not with the rate that they destroyed them together.

But as time went on, and things slowly got back to normal, she started to forget her anger. Training went back to self-defence—mostly at Dad's insistence after an unfortunate incident involving a karambit and one of grandma's film posters—and Mom… she didn't cry anymore, not where Trixie could hear her, anyway. There were even times when she smiled, and it actually felt real.

Eventually, her anger died to a simmer. Life, as it always did, moved on. There was a new school to deal with, new lessons to learn, new friends to make. And new enemies too, of course, as Maze kept reminding her.

But she never stopped missing him though, not for a second.

And even though they never talked about it, she knew her mom didn't either.

So when she got the message Lucifer was home… well, let's just say she had never gotten home from school quicker in her life. Which, admittedly, _might_ have had a little something to do with knowing the password to the Devil's Uber account. She didn't feel too guilty about it; if he didn't want her to use it, why pick her birthday? As far as she was concerned, that was practically an invitation. Otherwise, the access code would be her mom's, just like his safe was. And his phone. And his Netflix account.

Okay, so she may have done a little exploring in the penthouse while Mom and Maze packed up his things.

Thinking about that made her smile. They would be unpacking them again soon! She couldn't help but wonder what life was going to be like now. Would Lucifer finally be Mom's boyfriend? Would he move in with them? One thing was for certain, and that was that Mom was going to be _so_ happy now he was back.

As long as he didn't try to leave again, of course.

That knife throwing practice was going to come in handy if he did.

By the time she spotted her mom's car pulling up, her excitement had reached fever pitch. An all too familiar figure exited the passenger seat, and it took all she had not to run out there immediately and wrap her arms around him before he even reached the front door. But she forced herself to wait. During the short space between the Uber dropping her off and Lucifer arriving, she'd managed to raid the cupboard where Mom kept the party supplies, and there were now several balloons and streamers hung all around the apartment, as high as she could reach.

She wanted him to see them when he walked in. She wanted him to feel welcome. She wanted him to know how happy she was to have him back. She wanted—

"LUCIFER!"

Suddenly, it didn't matter what he thought about the decorations. He had barely stepped foot inside the apartment before she was on the move, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her face in his stomach.

And Lucifer, he just… stood there.

He didn't flinch. He didn't even tense. When she looked up at him, two dark blank eyes stared back, completely empty of any kind of joy or familiarity. She opened her mouth, a question on her lips, but before she could say anything… he removed her.

Lucifer had never done that before. He had squirmed out of her grasp, certainly. Backed away before she could touch him, definitely. He had never pushed her away though, never put his hands on her in an effort to make her stop. But this… this wasn't even that, and in a way, that made it worse. No, what he did was a simple removal of something he decided shouldn't be there, no different to a piece of lint upon his suit. She didn't even have time to tighten her grip; one minute she was holding onto him for dear life, and the next, he had lifted her up and placed her back down on the ground as far away from him as possible.

The look he gave her then was freaky; alien, even. But then Mom came bustling through the door after him, her hands laden with bags of shopping. In an instant, his face changed entirely, lighting up with expression and feeling, and just like that, it was Lucifer standing there again. He turned to her mom, a smile on his face, and kissed her cheek, taking the bags from her in the process, before heading into the kitchen.

"Hugs over already?" she said, ruffling Trixie's hair. "You must be out of practice, Monkey."

Trixie didn't answer, still running through the events of the last few minutes in her mind. Her mom joined Lucifer in the kitchen, laughing as they unpacked the shopping together, while she teased him for forgetting where everything went. They looked happy. So happy, that it had to have been her imagination, the way Lucifer had reacted. Maybe he was no different from before, and it was _her_ memory that was blurry.

That had to be it. What other explanation was there?

…

The rest of the evening went smoothly, as standard a Taco Tuesday as ever, with the exception that Dad wasn't there. It didn't surprise her; sometimes he seemed to like Lucifer, but most of the time he didn't, and it only got worse after he went back to Hell. Dad didn't know, of course, _why_ he had gone. All he saw was the devastation he left behind. He tried not to let how mad he was show when she talked about Lucifer, but he was really bad at hiding it.

She hoped Lucifer being here didn't mean he would stay away forever. If she could forgive him for leaving, just like Mom obviously had, surely Dad would eventually too? And Maze? She just wanted things to be like they were, and for everybody to be friends with her favourite Devil again.

Although, in her mom's case… more than friends. From her place at the dining room table, she watched as Mom and Lucifer tackled the rest of the clean up, him washing the dishes, with her standing next to him drying them. When they were finished, Mom moved in closer, her head resting against his shoulder as he laid a kiss against her hair. Trixie secretly took a photo of the moment and sent it to Auntie Ella, fulfilling her role as her official 'Deckerstar spy'. She was going to be thrilled.

As was Trixie. It had been plain to see for years that Lucifer and her mom belonged together; she just wished they'd both realised it sooner. And now, they could be a family, like she always wanted. She couldn't wait.

"Trixie babe?" Mom said, after pulling away from Lucifer to put away the last final dish. "Time to get ready for bed."

"Is Lucifer staying?" Trixie asked, as innocently as she could. Mom looked up at him questioningly, but he shook his head.

"Things to do at Lux, I'm afraid." He paused for a second, pondering, and then he added, "Darling"—almost as an afterthought. "But I'll see you tomorrow, at work?"

Mom nodded, but Trixie could see the flash of disappointment in her eyes. Lucifer didn't seem to notice though, sweeping up his jacket from the nearby breakfast bar and tugging it on with haste. He adjusted the cuffs before bending down, to kiss Mom, or so she thought, but when Mom tilted her head up towards him, he merely altered his path to brush his lips against her cheek. "Right then," he said cheerily, straightening up again almost immediately, "I'll be off."

And with that, he strode towards the front door, and, if Trixie didn't know better, she would have gotten the distinct impression that he couldn't wait to get out of there. Even worse, he appeared to have completely forgotten she was even in the room. She shot up from her chair, sending it clattering to the ground in her wake. "BYE Lucifer!" she said loudly, determined not to let him leave without at least saying farewell.

He froze, expecting, she guessed, another attack hug. But Trixie wasn't doing that again, not yet. She was pretty sure earlier was all in her head… and yet she didn't want to risk it, just in case. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned back to face her, and with a small tip of his head, said, "My apologies, Trixie, how rude of me. Goodnight."

And then he was gone.

He was gone, and he called her _Trixie._

It wasn't her imagination, after all. Something _weird_ was going on.

...

"Mom, is everything okay with Lucifer?"

Her mom's hand hesitated briefly before tugging up the blankets on the bed to tuck Trixie in. She was a bit too old for her to still be doing this, but Trixie couldn't bring herself to ask her to stop, not yet. There were so many nights she wasn't here… it made this time of the evening special, and she wasn't ready for it to end yet. As long as her friends didn't find out, it didn't matter, not really. They no longer read books together like they used to; that was something Trixie did alone before lights out, but she loved how they would chat about their day, without TV, or homework, or chores to distract them. It was something she looked forward to on the nights Mom was home.

"Everything's fine, baby, why?" Mom replied, smoothing down the covers. She didn't look her in the eye though, and Trixie knew that meant she wasn't telling the whole truth. Too much time with Lucifer had taught her that.

"He didn't hug me." Her vision grew blurry for a second, but she wiped the threatening tears away with the back of her hand. It wasn't until then that she even realised just how much his rejection had affected her.

"Oh, sweetheart," Mom said, gently stroking her hand over Trixie's face and brushing some hair back from her eyes. "I'm sure he didn't mean not to. He's just… going through a bit of a tough time at the moment, that's all. You know all that time he was away?" Trixie nodded. "Well, he had nobody to hug him, because we weren't there. It's going to take a bit of time for him to get used to it again."

"He lets you hug him though?" she asked. After all, she'd seen earlier how cuddly they were with each other. Perhaps Lucifer was making a special effort just for Mom?

Her mom chuckled a little. "I don't think I gave him much of a choice." She tickled Trixie then, and both of them laughed. "Must be where you get it from, huh?"

Trixie gave her mom a sly look. "And he lets you kiss him too?"

She tried not to giggle as her mom's cheeks reddened. But then she swallowed, and her eyes flickered away again. "He does…" she said, frowning slightly, "But it's not quite the sa—"

Suddenly, Mom blinked and shook her head, as though only just realising what she was saying. "Never mind all that though," she said, leaning forward to place a kiss on Trixie's forehead. "I'm sure you don't want to hear about who your mom is kissing."

She grinned. "So you're kissing more than one person?" she teased, hoping to make Mom laugh, which she did.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Mom replied with a wink. Reluctantly admitting defeat, Trixie shrank down under the covers and rapidly shook her head.

"Okay, you're right. I really, _really,_ don't."

"I thought as much." Stifling a yawn, Mom got up to leave, switching off the main light when she reached the door. Trixie turned on the small bedside lamp instead, illuminating the room with a soft glow. "Lights out in 15, okay?" Mom said, poking her head back through the door. "Books only, no phones. I don't want to have to take it off you again just because Maze thinks midnight is an acceptable bedtime."

Trixie smiled, careful not to make any promises. "Goodnight Mommy!"

As it always did, hearing 'mommy' made her mom's eyes go all watery. This was the only time Trixie ever said it now, and she saved it for bedtimes especially. "Sleep tight, baby," she said softly before leaving, sliding the door closed behind her.

Immediately, Trixie dove for the book she kept on her bedside table, the one she had spent hours diligently cutting a hole inside to hold her phone. It was a little awkward using it that way, but it meant that if Mom found an excuse to open her door and check on her, all she ever saw was Trixie reading her 'favourite' book. Of course, she'd never actually said it was her favourite, but she couldn't blame her for assuming it was, given that it looked like she'd been reading the same story for months…

Slipping in her earbuds, she connected the bluetooth and dialled Maze's number. Any conversation they had would have to be whispered, but they were more than used to that by now. Maze was away on a bounty hunt again—back to Canada, which she had _not_ been happy about—and Trixie liked to check in on her at least once a day, despite knowing she could beat up any bad guy with her hands tied behind her back. The last week or so though, their conversations had become so broken up with interference that they were indecipherable, and then they had died off completely. Maze's bounty had fled into the mountains, and Mom said the signal there was non-existent. She hadn't been able to get hold of her either.

Which meant Maze still didn't know Lucifer was back yet.

She waited for Maze's voicemail to kick in immediately again, like it had for the past few days now. Mom said she wanted to tell Maze in person, rather than break the news about Lucifer through text like last time. The thing was, Mom had been so distraught after Lucifer's departure that she hadn't told Maze, hadn't told _anyone_ outside of herself and Dad, for a couple of days. Trixie didn't want to have to make her wait to find out he was back as well. If that meant a text, then so be it. Hopefully she would get it sooner rather than later

But the phone rang. And rang… and rang… until finally Maze's voice came through loud and clear. " _WHAT?"_

Trixie giggled quietly, knowing that any second… "BEEP!"

 _Best answerphone message ever,_ she thought to herself, not for the first time. If the phone was ringing, that meant she had signal though, right? Her finger hovered over the redial button, but before she could press call, a text alert flashed upon the screen.

[21:08] QueenOfHell: _Sorry kid, can't talk. Stakeout._

Excitedly, Trixie removed her phone from its place inside the book, figuring the risk of getting caught was worth it if meant she could type faster.

[21:09] DemonPrincess: _Lucifer's back!_

[21:09] QueenOfHell: _Can't be. I'd know._

Swiping through her phone, she selected the photo she'd taken earlier, the one where Lucifer was facing away from her as he did the dishes, Mom's arm around his waist as she looked up at him so adoringly, she may as well have had heart emojis for eyes.

[21:10] DemonPrincess: _See? Told you._

She watched the screen as the three dots showing Maze was typing appeared, then disappeared again. A quiet cough came from outside her room, and even though her 15 minutes weren't quite up yet, she rolled over to switch off her bedside lamp. If Mom thought she was asleep already, there was less chance of her coming in. A few seconds later, and the sound of the TV being turned on droned into the room.

[21:11] QueenOfHell: _What's wrong with him?_

Frowning, Trixie slid down the bed a little, getting herself into a more comfortable position so she could use the phone under her blanket. How could Maze tell he was acting oddly just from a photo?

[21:12] DemonPrincess: _Nothing, apart from he wouldn't let me hug him._

[21:12] QueenOfHell: _You're surprised? No, look at him. He's standing strange. Is he hurt?_

Trixie pulled up the picture again, zooming in on Lucifer. Maze was right, he was leaning to the side a little, but that's just because Mom was holding him, right?

[21:13] DemonPrincess: _No. Seems fine to me._

[21:13] QueenOfHell: _Good. I wouldn't want killing him to be too easy._

She barely covered the snort of laughter that escaped her. Lucifer was so in for it when Maze got home. Fingers crossed she got to watch the ass kicking he was going to get. But still…

[21:14] DemonPrincess: _You can't kill him, Maze._

The photo, still visible at the top of the screen, caught her eye again. Before Maze could reply, she quickly added: _Mom's happy._

This time, it was almost a minute before the dots stopped scrolling.

[21:15] QueenOfHell: _Is he?_

Trixie closed her eyes for a moment, thinking over Lucifer's visit. _Was_ he happy? Sure, he would smile whenever Mom looked his way, but it was a smile that vanished as soon as she turned away again. He hadn't laughed once, not even a chuckle. She thought about lying for a second, and telling Maze he was fine, just as Lucifer himself would have done… but that's not what friends did. Or, at least, it's not what _she_ did, not with Maze.

[21:16] QueenofHell: _Well?_

[21:16] DemonPrincess: _I don't know. He called me Trixie._

She waited so long for a reply that at one point, the display dimmed to black. Just as she was about to give up and go to sleep though, the phone lit up again.

[21:26] QueenOfHell: _Sorry, thought I saw something. Keep an eye on him. Not that I care or anything… but Hell is a bitch. And he's not the king he was._

Trixie's eyelids were growing heavy. She yawned, forcing them open just enough as she could send a reply, the words starting to blur as the bright light of the screen burned into her vision.

[21:28] DemonPrincess: _I will. Mom says he needs hugs._

[21:28] QueenOfHell: _She would._

It was getting harder to type now, the phone loosening in her hands. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Maze for longer, but the events of the day had her beat. There was one question she wanted to ask though before she turned in.

[21:29] DemonPrincess: _Will you be home soon?_

[21:30] QueenOfHell: _One week, two at most. You humans can only run for so long._

That brought a smile to her face. The discarded book fell to the floor as she turned onto her side, snuggling into the mattress. One blink turned into a much slower one, and with a sigh, she finally gave up.

[21:30] DemonPrincess: _I gotta sleep. See you soon._

She didn't wish her luck, or tell her to stay safe. She didn't need to. Besides, Maze would only tell her off if she did. Nothing could defeat her, not even Lucifer. It brought Trixie comfort, knowing there was someone in her life who would always come home to her.

[21:31] QueenOfHell: _Looking forward to it. Beat his ass if he doesn't hug you again. And remember, live target practice is better than drawings. Just saying._

Trixie smiled again sleepily, and turned off her phone. The last thing she heard before she closed her eyes was the sound of her door opening slightly, but by then it was too late for Mom to catch her. Her phone safely stashed underneath her pillow, she went to sleep feeling hopeful. Maze would be back soon, and Lucifer would be himself again.

It was all going to be fine, she just knew it.


	2. Playing by the Rules

_"This is boring,"_ she whispered, careful to keep her voice as low as she could, thanks to the angel currently sitting on their sofa. Trixie had no idea if angels had better hearing than humans, but now, she figured, was _not_ the time to find out. Lucifer didn't seem to notice however, his head still buried in the instructions for Monopoly, studying them religiously.

Mom gave her a sympathetic smile. "I know, Monkey, but Lucifer, he was in—" she paused, shuffling the pan on the stove in front of her a little before continuing. "He was away for a long time. He probably got a little rusty on the rules, that's all."

Trixie fought the urge to roll her eyes—she'd had one too many tellings off for doing that lately. So unfair, considering mom did it _all the time._ "Since when does Lucifer care about the rules?" she asked, wondering how on earth her mom couldn't have realised how _weird_ that was. "He never did before."

She felt a small jolt of success as her mom looked over at Lucifer with concern, but, almost as if he could sense her eyes on him, he looked up and smiled. Trixie could only watch as her mom sort of… melted, in a way that made her want to pull a face. But she didn't, of course, because she was too grown up for that now.

Still, it was kind of gross.

"Maybe he just wants to be better at it," her mom said encouragingly, a dreamy look on her face as she gently nudged her with her hip. "Can't break the rules if you don't know them, right?" That was true, she supposed. Kind of. It still seemed strange, though… "Come on, popcorn's nearly ready. Why don't you set up the game, and I'm sure Lucifer will be ready to play by the time you're done."

With an overexaggerated sigh, Trixie went to do just that. She wished Mom could have waited until the popcorn was done… It wasn't that she didn't like being alone with Lucifer anymore; he'd been back about a week, and he was around here a _lot,_ so it was kind of unavoidable. She just hated it when he—

"Ah, Trixie, come to assist, have you?"

When he called her _that_. According to Mom, it was because he was trying to fit in, trying to be part of their family. It was the same reason he kept calling her mom 'Chloe', rather than 'Detective', now that he was her boyfriend. But... he'd practically been her boyfriend before, and she had still always been 'spawn,' 'child,' or 'parasite'—she smiled at that last one, thinking of the time he'd taken her to school. Not her school, though. Just _a_ school. A school where she got to pretend to be 'Trixie Morningstar'.

His urchin.

She missed it. Him calling her Trixie... it just didn't seem _right_.

And speaking of things that didn't seem right… "I rather think I'll assume the role of banker tonight," he proclaimed as she started to lay out the game, causing her to halt mid-shuffle of the community chest cards.

"But you hate being banker," she said, pushing the money towards him, despite her confusion. "And Mom always says you're useless with money. Remember the time you tried to add in _actual_ cash?"

"Trixie!" Her mom came rushing over from the kitchen, popcorn in hand. "I didn't say that _exactly_ ," she explained hurriedly. "It's just, well..."—she sank down onto the sofa with an apologetic smile—"you do always hand out way too much."

Lucifer frowned, his hand twitching towards the rules again. "Amassing funds is the aim of the game, is it not?" They both nodded. "Then rest assured, I shall not be repeating that mistake again."

He wasn't joking. In fact, there was no joking at all during what had to be one of the most mind-numbingly boring hours of Trixie's life. First, there was the argument over the tokens. " _But I like cars. Why wouldn't I be the car?"_ he insisted, as if that one preference meant there was no feasible way he could have ever chosen any other token. Even after her mom gave in though, there seemed to be some sort of debate every five seconds about someone doing something wrong, complete with the instructions being pulled out and consulted each and every time.

Monopoly, she quickly concluded, was not as much fun when you weren't allowed to cheat.

Over the course of the game, Mom made several attempts to try and get him to loosen up a little, but it was no use. "Regulations are there for a reason, Chloe. I would have thought you would understand that, given your penchant for making sure others abide by human law."

That earned him a sigh and an eyeroll, or what Trixie liked to refer to as a 'double combination hit'—something her mom seemed to save exclusively for Lucifer. "I don't have a 'penchant' for upholding the law, Lucifer. It's my _job_ ," she said. Rummaging into the box for the game, she extracted a hotel, handing over the necessary cash. " _Besides,"_ she muttered under her breath, " _nobody ever went to jail for breaking the law of Monopoly."_

Trixie barely stifled a laugh, and then had to do it all over again when Lucifer coughed and tapped the board pointedly, highlighting that there was, indeed, _literally_ a jail there.

That turned out to be the high point of the game though. Thirty minutes later, and she was nearly out of money. Luckily for her, the property she landed on during what could be her very last turn, was Lucifer's. Smiling up at him sweetly, she waited for his usual offer of a deal instead of rent. The candy under her bed perhaps, or her share of the remaining popcorn.

But no deal ever came. "You appear to be bankrupt," he said, holding out his hand for the remainder of her cash. The corner of his mouth quirked. "If you wish to succeed, perhaps next time you should learn to follow the rules."

Money handed over, Lucifer turned his attention away immediately, as if, by losing, Trixie had no longer become relevant in his mind. Her eyes burned slightly, but she blinked back the tears, not wanting him to see how much it hurt. _Never let them see you cry._ That's what Maze said. And Maze was always right. Even if both her parents said otherwise.

"Shall we continue, my dear?" Lucifer asked Mom, the dice in his hand poised to throw.

Mom didn't answer at first, looking uncomfortably between the two of them, before rising to her knees and starting to pack away the game. "I don't think so. It's not as much... er... 'fun?' with just two." She shot Trixie a meaningful look, and she giggled in response. Apparently, Mom had been just as bored as she was.

Lucifer didn't seem to pick up on it though. "I'm surprised you would concede defeat so easily," he said, his head tilting to the side in the way he did sometimes when something happened that he couldn't quite figure out. It made her feel a little better, to see him do something she actually recognised.

Her mom bristled at that. "I wouldn't call it giving up… more like not wanting to waste the evening on a game that would take forever to win, now that there's only two of us playing."

For some strange reason though, Lucifer outright grinned at her words. Not a fake smile either, not like so many he had put on lately, but one that reached his eyes, which lit up with unrestrained glee. "Sometimes you have to play the long game if you want to win a battle." He looked at the ground then, in an odd way that almost seemed like he was looking _past_ the floor, and for a second, there was something vicious in that grin of his.

"Believe me, it makes victory all the sweeter."

Neither of them knew what to say to that.

…

It quickly became clear that their usual post-game karaoke was off; Trixie wasn't in the mood, and when Mom asked about it, she wasn't sure if it was her or Lucifer that said no faster. It was yet another thing he did that evening that surprised her. Normally, Lucifer loved to sing—he liked nothing more than the sound of his own voice, Mom always said—and he always hogged the microphone for as long as he could, only giving in when the two of them teamed up to wrestle it off him.

"Come on, guys," Mom teased as she opened up the cupboard to put the Monopoly away, "my singing isn't _that_ bad, is it?"

Wisely, both of them stayed silent. It was probably the first real time since Lucifer's return that Trixie felt like they were both on the same page.

"Okay, okay, I get the message! Face painting then, is it? I believe it's your turn, Lucifer," Mom said, raising her eyebrows. "Go dig out your set, Trix?"

Digging it out would be exactly what she needed to do; neither of them had touched the kit in the last few months, and Trixie was pretty sure it was hidden right at the bottom of her art chest somewhere. It was one of the many things they no longer did after Lucifer wasn't there to do it with them anymore. She could still remember the horrified look in his eyes the first time she dared to apply glitter to her design, and the days of complaining that followed when he kept finding it in his hair.

Actually, it wasn't all that far from the alarmed expression on his face right now.

"You want to put paint… on my skin?" he said, sounding as if the concept had suddenly become completely alien to him.

Mom didn't look up from where she was busy restacking the board games in their usual precarious pile, one that might actually let her close the cupboard doors again. She often said it was like playing Tetris—whatever that was. Trixie didn't know why she bothered really. The next time they wanted to play something, it would only all come spilling out again.

"Luckily for you, Mr. Morningstar," Mom said, balancing the last jigsaw puzzle on top and slamming the doors before the inevitable happened, "you'll be the one doing the painting this time."

Lucifer looked relieved, while Trixie felt far from it. So far, through all their game nights, she had managed to avoid letting the Devil anywhere near her with a paintbrush. It hadn't escaped her attention that sometimes he slathered on so much eyeliner he looked like a goth having a bad day; the last thing she wanted was to let him have free reign on her face.

Reluctantly, she headed into her bedroom, scattering her art supplies all over the floor as she hunted for the face paints. Perhaps she could ask for something simple, like a heart. He couldn't mess up a heart, could he? Then again, the last time she drew a heart in front of Maze, all the demon did was point out all the ways it wasn't like a real human heart. She shuddered at the thought of Lucifer trying to paint something like _that_ on her cheek.

Emphasis on the try, of course. Was it possible to be better at painting than you were at drawing? She hoped so, otherwise this was going to be a complete disaster, one that would mean avoiding Mom's camera phone when he was done at all costs.

When she re-entered the living room, Mom had already put down a wipe-clean cloth on the coffee table, and a plate for mixing colours on if Lucifer wanted to. Trixie laid out the necessary brushes and paints, before taking a seat on the sofa. After her attempt a couple of Halloweens ago to replicate Maze's demon face with her existing crayons had failed miserably, Lucifer insisted on upgrading her supplies. She was now the proud owner of the same paints they used on the dancers at LUX when they held theme nights. Nobody had ever been able to match her costumes since.

Lucifer carried over a chair from the dining room table and set it down in front of her. With their height difference though, it soon became obvious that it was going to be way too awkward for him to paint from there. She waited for him to get on the floor, just like he did the one and only time Mom allowed him to paint her face. The simple stars that covered her cheeks that night were beautiful, and Trixie had caught her more than once running her fingertip along the edges of the design when she thought no one was watching.

Maybe he would do stars again for her tonight too?

But rather than lower himself to the ground, Lucifer stood, signalling that she should get on the chair. She went to speak, but before she could, he simply stated, "I do not kneel." His expression and the darkness in his eyes gave no room for argument. Silently, she slid onto the chair, letting him take her place on the sofa.

"Hey," Mom exclaimed fondly, ruffling her fingers through Lucifer's hair as she walked past, carrying the now empty popcorn bowl back to the kitchen. "My floors aren't _that_ bad. Besides, a little dust on your pants from getting on your knees isn't exactly going to kill you."

Trixie waited for him to correct _pants_ to _trousers._ Mom seemed to be waiting for him to do something too, standing at the edge of the counter with a smirk on her face. A smirk which quickly vanished when he gave no response at all, to either of them. Instead, he picked up a paintbrush and palette, and said solemnly, "Close your eyes."

"Don't I get to pick?" she asked, doing as he instructed.

"Dealer's choice," he replied. And for the next thirty minutes, those were the only words he spoke to her.

The first time she painted Lucifer's face, he never shut up. His almost constant babbling, ranging from whining about the torture she was putting him under, through to checking if she was completely sure that she couldn't do Bruce Lee, made it extremely hard to concentrate on what she was doing, never mind draw a steady line. Of course, she didn't help the situation by asking who Bruce Lee was, and wasn't _that_ a lecture she wouldn't be forgetting any time soon.

This new Lucifer though, he was silent. After several minutes had passed since the last brushstroke across her eyelids, she risked opening them, only to find him staring at her. No, not at her, more like _through_ her. To him, she may as well have not even been there. She was nothing more than a canvas for whatever he was creating, not a person, not a _friend_.

Mom watched from the other sofa, a soft smile on her face that only grew fonder as he continued. When he finally laid down his brush, she gaped in wonder. "Oh, Lucifer," she breathed, "That's _beautiful._ " Leaping from her seat, she took Trixie's hand, dragging her over to the mirror. "Look, Monkey! Isn't it amazing?"

Trixie's hand drifted towards her face as she gazed at herself; it was only at the last second that she pulled it away, worried that she might smudge one of the delicate flowers now decorating her skin. Mom voiced the thought running through her head. "Why did you never tell me you could paint so well?" she asked Lucifer, still sounding awed.

In the mirror, she saw him shrug. "Our line of work never required me to, I suppose."

Mom smiled, almost shyly. "Can you do me next?"

Lucifer nodded, motioning towards the chair. Trixie continued to trace the flowers and vines that wound their way across her eyelids and forehead, following them down until they gently caressed her cheekbone. It took several minutes, but eventually she finally managed to drag herself away from her reflection, wandering over to perch on the end of the sofa so she could watch Lucifer work.

"What flower is this, Mom?" she asked, pointing to the purple bloom that appeared most frequently in the design. Given that Lucifer appeared to be in his own world again, she didn't even try asking him. It should be some source of comfort, she supposed, that he was looking at Mom in the same vacant way he had to her.

Mom opened her eyes to see which flower she was referring to, earning a huff from Lucifer in the process. "That's a snapdragon, babe," she said, shutting her eyelids once more and stilling. "It's one of my favourite flowers, actually." She fell silent for a moment as Lucifer tucked a finger under her chin, moving her face up slightly to allow him access to her neck as he stroked colour down and around it.

"Did you know that Grandad picked my middle name? Jane means 'God is gracious.' He wasn't particularly religious or anything, but after it took them so long to have me… he said it felt right. And every year on my birthday, he would bring me snapdragons. They mean grace, you see."

The corner of Lucifer's mouth jerked upwards, and oddly, she heard him quietly chuckle to himself. " _Amongst other things,"_ he muttered, reaching for the as yet unused paints and falling short. Trixie hopped off her seat, rounding the coffee table and pushing them closer towards him. He swiped them off the table without so much as a thank you.

"Anyway," Mom continued, her eyes still closed, completely oblivious. "That's why I like them so much, you see. They remind me of him."

"They're very pretty, Mom," Trixie said, sitting down again, next to Lucifer this time, captivated by the sight of him delicately placing another snapdragon across Mom's cheek. She had a lot more than Trixie did, intertwined with what looked like dahlias, painted in a burgundy so dark they were almost black.

Mom smiled when he finished, leaning forward to cup the side of Lucifer's face with one hand, gently caressing his cheek with her thumb and tilting his head up towards her. "Thank you, Lucifer," she said, briefly pressing her lips to his. Instinctively, Trixie cast her eyes away, just in time to see Lucifer's hands fist against the cushions. As Mom pulled away though, one flew up to catch her wrist. Trixie automatically followed the movement, watching as he laid a kiss against the back of her hand.

"It was my pleasure," he said, and for once, he looked like he really meant it, like this was something he _actually_ enjoyed. There was the same kind of joy in his eyes that she had only seen before when he was playing the piano, or singing. He smiled as he studied his handiwork. "Father does make beautiful things."

Mom flushed, but Trixie had the strangest feeling that it wasn't _her_ he was talking about. A thought occurred to her then. "Did you practice painting while you were away, Lucifer?"

They both turned to her at the same time; Lucifer offering up little more than a cursory glance, while Mom shot her a sharp look of warning. " _Try not to mention Hell, Monkey,"_ she had told her earlier, just before Lucifer arrived. " _He doesn't like it. And Linda said we should wait until he's ready."_

Trixie agreed, of course; it wasn't like she wanted to hurt him or anything. But this wasn't strictly speaking about Hell, was it? She just wanted to know how he'd suddenly gotten so good at art, that's all!

"I often paint when I'm not on Earth, yes," he replied, before turning his attention to the coffee table and starting to gather up the supplies. Now that his focus was elsewhere, Mom made a _quit it_ motion against her throat, her head shaking minutely. Then she pulled out her phone, taking the opportunity while Lucifer was finishing up to snap a photo of the two of them together.

When he was done, Trixie dutifully took the carefully filed away supplies back to her bedroom. When she returned, she asked if they could watch a movie, not really feeling like she wanted to participate in any more 'activities' tonight. Movie nights with Lucifer were always fun; no matter what film they picked, he always had something to say about it.

"Sure, why not. It's not as if it's a school night," Mom said. "I'll make some more popcorn. Any preferences? Lucifer? And before you say it, not _that_." Trixie knew exactly what 'that' was. Mom told her years ago that Lucifer was a big fan of her old movie 'Hot Tub High School' because of the cake scene, but she refused to watch it with him. Trixie never really understood why; after all, it was pretty damn funny.

Lucifer didn't seem to have a clue what she was on about though. "Not what?" he said, looking completely baffled. Mom shook her head in disbelief, and Trixie decided to rescue him.

"How about Hercules?" she suggested. Truth be told, it wasn't really one of her favourite movies anymore, hadn't been for a long time. In fact, without Lucifer here, she hadn't watched it once. He was the one who made it fun, after all. The first time, they were barely five minutes in before his commentary began, ranging from, " _Who the bloody hell told them the Grecians sang Gospel music?!"_ through to his absolute outrage that they'd had the 'nerve' to make Hades blue.

"I should have known you would identify with this," Mom grumbled that night, to which Lucifer just rolled his eyes.

"Why wouldn't I? It's about me!"

"Oh, just like everything, you mean?"

"Exactly, Detective. Glad you're cottoning on."

On screen, Hades said something sarcastic and worried about his hair, which made Mom grin. "Actually, you're right," she said, looking between the TV and Lucifer, "I can totally see the resemblance, now."

They spent most of the movie bantering like that, and Trixie loved the film ever since. Eventually, after much badgering, she even managed to get Lucifer to admit that the animators got at least _some_ things right. Hades liked to make deals after all, and Lucifer said that 'the underworld' wasn't too far off either, not with its bluish tinge and darkness everywhere. " _Less bones, more screaming though,"_ he observed drolly, before Mom told him to stop trying to scare her.

She wasn't scared, though. Lucifer never scared her. Not even that day in the warehouse when she saw his eyes flash red, and certainly not after he saved her and Eve when she visited the penthouse. Besides, she saw the sad look on his face when they said that Hades was mean. Lucifer was many things. But mean? Definitely not.

Since he came back though, so much had changed. He wasn't mean to her, not exactly, but he was… indifferent, if that was the right word for it. Take tonight, for example. After she put the movie on, she returned to the sofa to find him sitting in the corner, Mom already cuddled up next to him, leaving her alone at the far end. Previously, Lucifer had always sat in the centre, his long legs stretched out over the coffee table—no matter how many times Mom told him not to do that—knowing full well that at some point during the evening, he would end up with both of them curled into his side.

He always moaned at the end of the night, about the creases in his clothes, and on the odd occasion one of them had fallen asleep, the drool on his shirt. And yet, every single time, he would sit in the same seat without fail. He reminded her of a stray animal sometimes; a creature you had to approach with caution, but once you earned their trust, they craved love and affection just like any other pet. Somehow she doubted he would appreciate the comparison, but the truth could not be denied. The Devil secretly liked hugs. And hogging all the popcorn.

The latter remained the same, but that was about it. Tonight Lucifer sat silently during the entire film, not a single quip or correction to be heard. Maybe that would be normal for most people, especially with a movie they'd watched repeatedly, but that never stopped him before. And to look at him, you wouldn't have guessed he'd already seen it anyway. His eyes were glued to the screen, taking in every detail. Everything else in the room was ignored, including Mom, who started dozing off against him almost from the beginning. His arm may have been around her, but whereas the old Lucifer would have spent half the time staring down at her with a stupid smile on his face, now he didn't even seem to notice she was there.

The second the film was over, Lucifer stood up to leave, abruptly disturbing Mom from her slumber. "Are you going?" she yawned, stretching out against the couch. "You can stay a little longer if you like, I just need to put Trixie to bed."

She saw Lucifer steal a glance at his watch—another new development, considering she couldn't remember ever seeing him wear one before— and shook his head. "I believe it's been long enough," he said, striding over to the desk and shrugging on the jacket he'd left draped over the chair there. "I'd best be off."

"Hold on a sec," Mom said, scrambling up from the sofa. "I'll bag you up some of the leftover popcorn." Lucifer opened his mouth, to protest, Trixie suspected, but Mom held up a finger indicating she'd only be a minute, and headed into the kitchen.

Trixie pushed herself off the sofa as well, and joined Lucifer by the door. "Did you enjoy the movie?" she asked, examining his reaction closely. It didn't feel like a question. It felt like a test. Only… she wasn't sure exactly _what_ she was testing him on.

Lucifer's eyes darted to the kitchen, where her mom was still busy dishing out the popcorn. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to Trixie, rocking back on his heels slightly as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "It was enjoyable enough, I suppose," he said. When she didn't reply, he quirked an eyebrow, and continued. "I do not understand the issue this Hades had with his position, though."

Trixie frowned, completely taken aback. "You mean being stuck in the underworld, looking after all the _dead people?_ "

"Hmm." He looked over at Mom again, but she was only just beginning to tie up the bags. "He obviously deserved to be there, so why not just accept the punishment he was given?"

"Who said he deserved to be there?" she argued, feeling an inexplicable need to defend who most would consider to be the villain, "You heard him, it was a job."

"A job he wouldn't have been given if he weren't evil," he countered. The corner of his mouth rose, in a kind of cruel smile she could never have pictured on Lucifer's face. He crouched down towards her, dropping his voice down low. "Zeus was wise and all powerful, and he chose to send Hades to the underworld. Therefore, he deserved it. He should have just accepted the judgment he had been given and _stayed where he was."_

Trixie blinked, trying to connect the man she knew with the one standing in front of her. He looked like Lucifer, he sounded like Lucifer, but this wasn't Lucifer at _all_.

"Here you go!" Mom said brightly from behind them. She hadn't even heard her approach. Lucifer straightened immediately, taking the offered popcorn and slipping it inside his jacket.

"Thank you, my dear," he said, leaning over to give her a kiss on the cheek. Mom was ready this time though, and she turned her head at the last second to catch his lips with her own. And for the tiniest of moments, Trixie could have sworn she saw him flinch. He didn't pull away though, not until Mom did.

After that, he was out of the door before she even had a chance to say goodbye.

…

Bedtime was a more solemn affair than usual, Mom seemingly as affected by the weird way Lucifer was acting as she was. Even after she was all tucked in, Mom stayed silent, smoothing down the blankets repeatedly as she stared blankly at nothing, lost in thought. Trixie took her hand, snapping her out of it.

"Mom… Lucifer doesn't like me anymore, does he?"

Mom's eyes widened. "Oh, no, baby, that's not true. He does like you, he's _always_ liked you, he's just…" she stumbled over her words, her free hand nervously running over the blanket again. "Do you remember, when you were younger, how awkward he was around kids?"

She nodded, memories of Lucifer throwing her toys—like someone would for a dog to play fetch—flooding to the forefront of her mind.

"Well, it's like that, only different. You're so much older now, but not yet an adult either… and I don't think he knows what to do with that quite yet. But that doesn't mean he doesn't like you, okay?"

"But—" she hesitated, wondering if this was something she should even be saying. Mom was happy, but she'd been happy before, and Trixie hadn't said anything then, either. And look how that turned out. "What if I don't like him either?" she said, wincing a little and shutting her eyes, not wanting to see her Mom's reaction.

Mom didn't say anything though, and when she was finally brave enough to look at her, she could see she was close to crying. "I'm sorry, Mommy!" she said quickly. "I didn't mean it, I'm sorry!"

"No…" Mom whispered, choking a little. "No, it's okay, Monkey, I'm glad you told me. You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" Trixie nodded, and Mom squeezed her hand. "And I understand. Lucifer is very different now. It's… it's hard to deal with."

She couldn't help herself, she had to ask. "Do _you_ still like him?"

Mom stood up from the bed, a forced smile on her face. "I love him," she said simply. "And that means being there no matter what. I liked the person he was before, and if he's not that person anymore, well… I'm going to try to be there for him, anyway." Bending over, she kissed her forehead. "Lucifer has been abandoned by so many people. I can't do it to him too."

"Then I won't either," Trixie said determinedly, and to her relief, Mom's smile became a little more genuine.

"I know you won't, sweetheart," she said. "But… if nothing changes, and you still feel this way, you have to promise to tell me." She paused, her hand hovering over the light switch. "See you in the morning, yeah?"

Trixie nodded, rolling over to turn off her bedside light as Mom closed the door behind her. She didn't feel like reading, and her last attempt to contact Maze again had been a bust. Despite how tired she was though, she still couldn't sleep, the events of the evening playing over and over again in her head. Turning over again, her hand caught on her cheek, the paint she had forgotten to wash off flaking against her skin.

Lucifer's voice floated through her mind. " _Amongst other things."_

Snapdragons. He'd been talking about snapdragons, and what they meant. Instantly wide awake again, she grabbed her phone, hastily typing ' _snapdragons meaning'_ into Google. The result shone up at her from the screen, one single word that felt like it reached into her heart and twisted.

_Deception._

Maze was right. Maze was always right.

Something was wrong with Lucifer.


	3. Paint it Black

For the next few days, Trixie couldn't get the Devil out of her head. The word 'deception' haunted her, and she found herself examining him closely whenever he visited. The things he said, the way he moved… she knew Mom saw it too. Lucifer would do something, and she would frown, or wince, before shaking her head slightly and carrying on as though nothing had happened at all.

It was clear she wasn't going to do anything about it, not anytime soon at least. Which meant Trixie had to. She promised not to abandon him… but that meant not abandoning him to whatever was happening to him, right? She just needed to figure out what was going on, that's all.

That was hard though, considering he barely spoke to her these days. Oh sure, in front of Mom he made _some_ effort to play the part, but as soon as her back was turned, he immediately returned to ignoring her again. She needed to form a plan, something that would give him no choice but to talk to her, with no chance of escape.

The perfect opportunity presented itself when Mom got called into work late one night. The first thing Trixie did was make sure to ask if Lucifer could be the one to watch her. Sometimes, now that she was older, Mom would let her look after herself, but never when there was a strong possibility that she wouldn't be back before bedtime. Dad was going to be stuck at work too, and with Lucifer already in the apartment after having joined them for dinner, it just made sense.

Of course, as she suspected, it was the last thing he wanted to do, going as far as to offer to join Mom in sorting paperwork at the station if it meant he could get out of it. Thankfully though, Trixie wasn't the only one who wanted him there.

"Please, Lucifer?" her mom pleaded, her blue eyes widening in the same way Trixie's did when she was after something. "It'll save me trying to find a sitter, which will be a complete _nightmare_ at this time of night, and she won't even be up for much longer." Mom glanced over towards the living room where Trixie was sitting, and when she saw her watching them, she caught Lucifer by the arm, tugging him a little further into the kitchen.

Not that it stopped Trixie from being able to hear her. Well, both of them, really. Considering they were adults, you would think at least one of them would have learned to whisper properly by now. Instead, they didn't seem to have a clue how to be able to talk to each other without being overheard. _"You need to spend some time with her again anyway, you know? If we're going to do this long term. It's not like she's going anywhere."_

"Ever?" Lucifer said, his expression shocked, obviously horrified at the idea.

Mom raised her hand to her temple, rubbing it like she always did when she started to get a headache. "No, not _ever_ ," she replied, still quietly, but not whispering like before, either. Maybe she realised there was no point, not with Lucifer refusing to join in. "But not any time soon, either. Please? I need you to do this for me, Lucifer."

His eyes narrowed. "It is a requirement of our relationship?" he asked carefully, and, after a beat, Mom nodded.

"But, Lucifer, I want you to _want_ to spend time with her, with both of us."

He frowned. "I am, am I not?"

"You are, but—" she broke off, then grabbed her keys and a hairband from the nearby bowl on the counter. "Look," she said, roughly tugging her hair into a ponytail, and turning to grab her jacket. "Are you going to do it, or not? Because otherwise, I need to go and start disturbing the neighbours. _Again."_

Silently, Trixie groaned. She hated being stuck with whoever happened to be free in their apartment building that day. Generally, it was someone old and retired, who wouldn't let her watch what she wanted to on TV, and actually insisted on the bedtime her Mom told them.

It made her miss Maze even more.

After a few moments, Lucifer nodded. "Very well, if you insist."

There was the temple rub again, this time accompanied by an eye roll. " _Great,"_ Mom uttered, not sounding the least bit pleased with his level of enthusiasm. Checking her watch, she quickly rattled off her instructions for the night, which mostly consisted of things Trixie had heard a hundred times before. "She can stay up another hour, since I'm bailing. No more sweets, and nothing on the television that's going to rile her up before bed. Do _not_ let her trick you into letting her watch the last hour of the Shining."

Trixie opened her mouth to protest, but quickly closed it again at the look Mom gave her. Okay, so it was true, she might have had a _couple_ of nightmares about that particular film, but Maze said nightmares were good for the soul! Which was probably the reason her friend loved the movie so much, considering she didn't have one. Trixie wondered if there was a way she could get rid of hers, too. That way, she wouldn't be scared anymore, and she could watch all the horror movies she liked.

Of course, the old Lucifer probably would have still let her watch it. This one however? She fully expected to be packed off to bed the second the clock hit one hour from now.

Which meant she had 60 minutes to find out why he was acting this way...

"As you wish, Chloe," Lucifer replied, smoothly taking the jacket from Mom and helping her slip into it. He pulled her ponytail free, and she smiled at him gratefully.

"Thank you," she said, softer now, before picking up her bag. "I mean it. I'll be back as soon as I can." Rising to her tiptoes, she gave him a quick peck on the cheek, before also blowing a kiss in Trixie's direction. "Be good, Monkey."

Pretending to catch the kiss, Trixie nodded, beaming. She fully intended to be good tonight, but only if 'good' also included being good at interrogating her sitter for the evening. "See you tomorrow!" she shouted cheerfully, more than used to evenings like this now. A flash of guilt crossed her Mom's face, but she quickly buried it under a smile, as she always did.

And then she was gone, the door slamming behind her, and it was just the two of them, alone at last.

Lucifer stared at her, and she stared right back. It had never occurred to her before, how little she ever saw him blink, but right now, it couldn't be more obvious. If he thought she would back down first though, he was wrong. She was a kid, which practically made her an expert in staring competitions.

And sure enough, he was the one to look away first. "Television then," he said, more to himself than anything, before starting to walk across to the living room.

She shook her head. "I don't want to watch TV," she said, trying to put on her best 'don't argue with me' mom-style voice. Television meant he would have an excuse not to talk to her, and that would defeat the entire point of tonight. "Can we do some colouring instead?" That, she figured, would at least give her the chance to ask him questions without arousing suspicion.

A few months ago, for parent's day, she'd been tasked with writing a 'day in the life' report on what her mom did at work. Much to her dismay, Mom refused to tell her about all the fun stuff, like shooting and beating up bad guys, but she did talk a lot about interrogations, and how to get information out of people by making them think they were your friend.

Lucifer though... he was already supposed to _be_ her friend. Which meant he should answer whatever she asked, right? After all, he always told the truth.

And yet, that flower...

Her 'friend' eyed her warily. "This is something we do?" he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice.

Mom's voice echoed in her head. " _He's been having some trouble remembering, so don't be worried if he's forgotten a few things, okay?"_

Deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt, just for now, she nodded. It was the truth, after all; colouring was something they often did together on the nights that Lucifer would babysit. Or spawnsit, as he always called it. She preferred that, actually. It wasn't like she was a baby anymore. It was one of the many reasons she didn't use colouring books now, either. They were for children, and she was practically a teenager.

No, she would do the drawing and Lucifer would colour, just like they always did. It was better that way. And absolutely nothing to do with the fact she had never met an adult who could draw as badly as Lucifer.

At least... that's what she _used_ to think, back before she saw him paint. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Here," she said, handing him a pile of artwork she hadn't gotten around to filling in yet. Colouring wasn't as much fun as drawing, and there wasn't anyone else around most of the time willing to do it for her. Mom and Dad were too busy most of the time, and Maze, well… she tended to attack the paper as though it contained images of her mortal enemies. Trixie liked her drawings; she had no desire to see every person on them covered in blood. It wasn't that she was fussy, exactly, it was just… Maze didn't even stay in the lines. Even Charlie would be able to do that, eventually.

Lucifer awkwardly folded himself down in front of the coffee table, and she pushed the pencil box towards him. "You can work on those, and I'll make us something new."

The glare he gave the task in front of him reminded her of how she looked at vegetables when she didn't want to eat them. After a few seconds though, he huffed defeatedly, selecting a crayon and diligently setting to work. She watched him for a while, but when his eyes flickered up towards her questioningly, she buried her head in her sketchpad and started to draw.

She tried engaging him in conversation, but he gave her one word answers at best. The difference to how much they used to talk was staggering. The silence made her feel uneasy, and, not for the first time, she wished the Lucifer she used to know was there. Not this imposter who wore his face and pretended to like her. Lucifer pretended too, but he only pretended _not_ to like her. There was a difference.

After a bit, she looked up to find him tapping his fingers on the table, a completed pile of artwork stacked in front of him, with nothing left to do. "You can work on this if you like," she said, pushing her half finished drawing towards him. "I'm not done yet, but…"

"That's quite alright," he replied, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. "I'm sure I'll manage."

She wondered what the picture would end up looking like. A year ago, she would have dreaded the result, fully expecting to see a stick figure version of Mom slotted awkwardly beside the finished portrait of Lucifer. It was like the Devil considered every art project to be a game of Hangman, only there were never any winners when it came to the finished result.

Idly, she wondered if that horrible painting she'd seen in his bedroom at the penthouse was his; if he could paint, but not draw, maybe that would explain why on earth he would ever have something that awful up on the wall. If Mom thought her nightmares were bad after watching the Shining, they were nothing compared to the terrifying mermaids with painted faces that haunted her dreams after seeing that. Auntie Linda told her clowns were nothing to be afraid of; Trixie wasn't so sure.

At least she'd managed to make a start on adding Mom into the picture, something to draw attention away from the fact she had just spent the last 30 minutes studying the man in front of her intently, playing a real life game of spot the difference. She kept thinking there was something on his forehead, like a mark or a scar, but every time she tried to focus on it, what she thought was there, suddenly wasn't anymore. "Can I see?" she said, gesturing towards her now coloured in pictures. He didn't look up from the pad, using his free hand to blindly slide them towards her.

She flicked through them, the frown on her face growing with every page. The drawings were neatly filled in, the colours he'd chosen were good, but… "Why have you filled in all the wings with black?" she asked, completely puzzled as to why he would do such a thing.

His gaze remained fixed on his drawing. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked, a note of irritation in his voice.

"Because angel wings aren't black," she said, shaking her ruined artwork at him to emphasize her point.

When he finally looked at her, his eyes were as dark as the wings he had created. "Well mine are," he said, practically growling the words. In the next breath though, his voice softened again, sliding back into its usual smooth tones. He continued, "Angel wings aren't all white, like you humans presume. Each angel is different. There are even some who believe the colour reflects the nature of our soul." He stopped working then for a moment, his grip on the pencil growing so tight Trixie worried it might snap in half.

"A ridiculous notion, of course. The purest wings I've ever seen belonged to the most tainted of us all. They were a lie."

A lie.

But it was _Lucifer_ who was lying _._

His wings weren't black _._

She'd seen them before, nearly two years ago now. It was a Monday night, and, as usual, she was stuck in her bedroom doing homework. There was something—she couldn't even remember what it was now—that she desperately wanted to watch on TV, but Mom wouldn't let her until she was finished. So when she heard her mom scream, the kind of scream that usually indicated there was a large spider in the vicinity, she hadn't exactly raced out there to rescue her.

To her surprise though, when she heard Mom for a second time, it wasn't Trixie she was calling out to. At the sound of Mom's voice, she finally got up and went to her bedroom door, sliding it open just enough to see her standing on a chair in the corner of the room, her phone clutched tightly in one hand. Before Trixie could say anything though, the strangest noise came from outside the building. Instantly forgetting about attempting to help with the spider situation in any way, she ran to her window, and when she got there…

She saw Lucifer, standing in front of the apartment, two huge gleaming white wings spread out on either side of him. They were there for no more than a second before he shrugged his shoulders, and then they vanished into his back as if they had never been there at all. The afterimage stayed in her mind though, and it raced with the possibilities. Lucifer could _fly_. Lucifer had flown here! Could he take Mom flying? Would he take _her_ flying?

Only one thing was for certain, and that was that his wings were the most beautiful things she had ever seen. There was no other word for it, they were _awesome_.

Seeing them was a memory she would never forget.

And neither was what happened afterwards, when he burst into the apartment seconds later to find Mom screaming and pointing at the floor, the spider having made its way towards the chair she had taken sanctuary on. The look on his face when he realised the emergency she'd called him about was an eight legged insect was hilarious. Trixie watched the pair of them from the gap in her door, trying not to laugh as Lucifer ranted about the Brittany buffet she'd pulled him away from, while Mom shouted at him to shut up and actually _do something_ to help her. Trixie still didn't quite understand what a 'Brittany buffet' was, but a geography class a few weeks later made her suspect that it might be something to do with French food.

When it became clear that Lucifer _wasn't_ going to do anything—"And risk getting cobwebs on my Armani, Detective? Preposterous!"—Trixie ended up taking matters into her own hands. One minute Mom was threatening him with sending the photograph she had of his unicorn painted face to Maze, and the next, the spider was neutralised, the small throwing knife Trixie normally kept hidden inside Miss Alien pinning it to the floor.

Silence fell over the room, until a long, slow clap finally broke it. "Well _done_ , urchin!" Lucifer beamed. "Mazikeen _will_ be pleased." He looked genuinely impressed, and that in turn made Trixie feel so proud of herself that she almost forgot Mom had also seen that particular display.

_"Trixie Espinoza!"_

Unfortunately, she was a little too late in disappearing back into her bedroom, clinging to the vain hope that she could have passed off the knife as magically appearing from nowhere. Mom climbed down from the chair with Lucifer's assistance, still being extremely careful to avoid going anywhere near the spider, despite the fact it was very obviously dead.

"We are going to be having a serious talk about this later, young lady." She hesitated, glancing behind her with a shudder. "But… thank you. At least _someone_ helped me."

And just like that, Mom and Lucifer were back at it, as though they had never stopped in the first place.

"I came, didn't I? Wasn't that helping?"

"You didn't DO anything!"

"Well, I beg to differ. I think you'll find I helped you down off that chair, for one thing."

"Oh, that's right, you _did_. Thank you, Lucifer, I couldn't have done it without you."

"You're very welcome, Detective. Any time."

"Urgh, you—Wait. How'd you get here so fast, anyway?"

"I wasn't far away... What? I wasn't! I'm curious though, why call me, out of all the people who could have helped you with this… _dangerous_ animal? The spawn seems to have certainly proved herself capable enough."

"Oh. Um, I... I guess you were just the first person I thought of."

_"Oh."_

It was at that point Trixie did finally close her door. Mom and Lucifer were obviously about to have one of those weird moments where they would just stare at each other without saying anything, and she'd seen enough of those to last her a lifetime.

Or so she thought, at the time.

Now she would do anything to see them look at one another like that again.

And anything… well, that included breaking the rules Mom had laid down for her. Just like Lucifer was doing, only, they were the rules he set himself. He didn't lie, not ever. And yet here he was, telling her something she _knew_ wasn't true.

She could make excuses for it, if she tried. Maybe angels could dye their wings, just like Mom dyed her hair sometimes. The idea that Lucifer bought a suit that white feathers didn't go with and changed his wings to match actually didn't sound all that unfeasible. Or… what if wings were like pocket squares, and he had interchangeable sets, just like the accessories for her Ken dolls she used to have, back before Molly McDowell destroyed them all?

Okay, so she knew she was reaching there. The truth was, she didn't think it was either of those things. Lucifer seemed so angry over the colour of his wings, almost offended that she would think all angel wings should be white. But why would he be offended, when he had white feathers himself?

It was another puzzle on top of all the others she had to solve. Why he was acting so different. Why he was treating her the way he was. And now, why he was lying.

Did one lie make a liar though? There was a simple way of testing that, at least. He'd already lied once. She just needed to see if he would lie again.

"Lucifer?"

It was obvious by the sudden tension in his shoulders that he'd heard her, and yet he didn't so much as raise his eyes from where he was busy scribbling on the paper. After a second or two, she tried again, this time injecting a little more whine into her voice. Getting someone's attention when she wanted, after all, was a skill she had down to a fine art.

_"Luciiiferrr?"_

Finally, he looked up, visibly annoyed. "What?" he said, jabbing his pencil pointedly against the sketchpad. "I thought you wanted me to complete this?"

She ignored the question, instead, focusing on her own. "What's Hell like?" she asked innocently, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the coffee table, her face resting sweetly in the cradle of her hands.

He regarded her for a moment, before his gaze flickered back to his drawing. "What do you think it's like?" he replied, a question to her question, which was the last thing she wanted.

Even though he wasn't particularly watching, she shrugged. "Just like in the movies, I guess. Red everywhere, lots of fire and screaming…"

"Well, there you go then," he said, putting down his pencil and selecting a different one. "You already know."

 _Damn._ That wasn't what she wanted to hear either. Because, of course, he was right, she _did_ know what Hell was like. Maze had described it to her plenty of times over the years, enough as Trixie could picture it perfectly. And it was nothing like that at _all._

To hear Maze tell it, the underworld was home. Dangerous in all the right ways, a never ending labyrinth that could kill you the instant you let your guard down. It was dark, and silent, and there was always something watching in the shadows. Any fires there had burned out eons ago, banished along with any other light that might remind their King of where he came from.

Her friend always spoke of Hell with such longing. But Lucifer didn't.

He had hatred in his eyes, the night he spoke about the parts of Hell Disney got right. The rest of his expression though… that was just sad. She couldn't imagine what it was like, spending so much of your life trapped in the dark. As someone who still slept with a nightlight on until recently, she often wondered if Lucifer was scared down there.

Perhaps he was, and that's why he had changed so much.

Thinking of Hercules again gave her an idea though. "Is there a river of souls there?" she asked, hoping her excitement would be mistaken for her enthusiasm for the film, rather than in anticipation of his answer. Part of her wanted him to say yes, wanted him to lie, and yet she wasn't sure why. Wouldn't that be a bad thing? Wouldn't it mean...

She didn't want to think about what it would mean.

"No," he said, and despite herself, she breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't going to lie to her. He wasn't—

"They're all locked in their cells."

He wasn't Lucifer.

It was like a switch had flipped, and she suddenly knew it with every fibre of her being.

He was lying again, and he had absolutely no reason to. It made no difference to her whatsoever whether the doors in Hell were locked or not, but she _knew_ that they weren't. It was one of the things that delighted Maze about the place; that souls could leave whenever they liked, but they never did. Personally, Trixie thought that was pretty cruel, but, well… it was _Hell._

Glancing at her watch, she saw that there were only 15 minutes left until bedtime. In an effort to calm the rising panic in her mind, she slowly began to put her crayons away, feigning a yawn as she did so. As her thoughts finally started to settle, she tried asking a few more questions, but she was mostly met with short, sharp answers that didn't really answer anything at all, followed by flat out refusals, especially when it came to telling her any stories from Hell. "Your mother wouldn't like it," he stated, quite correctly, concentrating fiercely as his pencil flew across the page.

 _Or maybe you just don't know any_ , she thought, glaring at him, despite the fact he wasn't even watching. _Because you've never been._

With only a couple of minutes left, he finally stopped, putting the sketchpad down and rising from his knees to the sofa. She was almost surprised not to hear the groan Mom or Dad would have made after sitting on the floor for such a long time; it was easy to forget he wasn't human sometimes. "I hope that meets your requirements," he said, nodding towards his work as he leaned back into the cushions. Quite honestly though, it sounded like he couldn't care less if it did.

Still, it didn't stop her from eagerly grabbing the pad, twisting it around on the table to face her, knocking the drawing she was brandishing earlier to the floor below. And what she saw there took her breath away. It was Mom. Not stick figure Mom, or not even a decent attempt at a portrait of her, much like Trixie herself would have done. No, this was almost a photograph, it was that good, every detail so finely crafted that, if he hadn't have been sat in front of her this entire time, she could never have believed he had drawn it from memory.

In her shock, she couldn't stop what she said next from slipping out. "You can't draw like this!"

"Hmm," he hummed non-committedly in response. Then, his eyebrows narrowed, and he sat up straighter, his head tilting to the side as he looked at her. For the first time that evening, she really, truly felt as though he were paying attention to her. And it didn't feel like a good thing.

"You're right," he said thoughtfully. "I always _was_ too lazy to actually put in the time and effort to do anything like this. Why would I, when music was so much easier?"

"Music isn't _easy_ ," she protested. Another thing he would know, if he were Lucifer. The few times he'd tried to teach her piano in the past hadn't exactly been a piece of cake. In fact, it was cake he ended up using to bribe her to stop asking for lessons.

"Pfft," he said dismissively, reclining again. "All I ever had to do was open my mouth and make noise, and my siblings would call it beautiful. What's easier than that?"

A beeping noise rang out into the room, preventing her from answering right away. 'Lucifer' grinned, before pulling out his phone and tapping it once. It was then that she realised he'd set an alarm, an actual _alarm_ , to alert him to when he could get rid of her. That _bliksem!_

"It's bedtime for little girls, I believe," he said with a smirk, waving a hand at her as if to say _hurry along,_ his attention now focused on the screen in front of him.

Resisting the urge to yell at him, she didn't argue, picking up as much of her stuff as she could carry and dumping it onto her bed. Less than ten minutes later and she was ready, spending the entire time seething while she brushed her teeth and put on her pyjamas. Despite just wanting to slam her door and be done with him for the evening, she decided to go back out there one last time.

It seemed important, somehow, not to let him know that anything was wrong.

When she reached the living room, the fake Lucifer was lying the full length of the sofa, still busy playing with his phone. At some point, he'd lit a fire, and the flames cast the hard edges of his face in sharp relief. He looked just like Lucifer. He was trying to _be_ Lucifer. There had to be an explanation for that.

The fire wasn't the only thing that had changed while she was gone. The coffee table was now empty, the artwork she'd left there nowhere in sight. "Where are my drawings?" she asked, looking around the room again in case she'd somehow missed them.

With a huff, he lowered his phone. "You didn't appear to appreciate them," he said with a shrug. Then he turned to the fire and smiled smugly. "And I needed kindling."

Her heart sank. That drawing… that had been _proof_. It hadn't occurred to her before, but right then, in that moment, she knew proof was what she was going to need. Nobody was going to believe her if she just started telling people this wasn't Lucifer. _Nobody._ Even she thought she sounded a little crazy, and it was her that was thinking it in the first place!

Her disappointment must have shown on her face though, because this man, whoever he was, appeared to try and offer her some sort of comfort. "I'm sure you can draw more," he said, before picking up his phone again. Then, after a second, almost as if he realised he'd been too nice, he added, "They were worthless anyway."

She didn't even bother saying goodnight after that. In that instant, it didn't matter that this wasn't Lucifer. He still sounded like him, and hearing him say that _hurt_. She fled to her room, yanking back the covers and sending her art supplies scattering to the ground as she crawled inside. Stubbornly, she refused to cry. Her drawings _weren't_ worthless. The real Lucifer even had one up on his fridge at the penthouse; she wasn't supposed to know that, but Mom told her anyway, and she'd promised to keep it a secret.

It was that thought she held onto as she leaned over to switch her light off, plunging the room into darkness. This wasn't Lucifer. It wasn't. It _couldn't_ be. It became a mantra in her mind, playing on repeat as she willed for sleep to take her.

But when it did, she wished it hadn't. Her nightmares were filled with ghosts and demons, monstrous shapeshifters that could take your face, and creatures that would steal your soul. One by one, everyone she knew invaded her dreams, only to turn into a twisted version of themselves, the people she loved now nothing more than strangers.

It wasn't until Mom came home that she woke, the sound of the front door opening tearing her from the depths of her mind with a gasp. Her heart racing, she willed herself to calm down before Mom came in to check on her, as she always did when she missed bedtime. After a minute or two, she heard the front door again, which she could only assume was whoever was impersonating Lucifer leaving for the night. It was a relief, knowing he wasn't in the apartment anymore. Perhaps now she could sleep in peace

When Mom finally came in, she pretended to be asleep, although it was hard not to giggle when she heard Mom curse, after stepping on what was probably a pencil. One gentle kiss against her forehead later, and she was gone again, muttering something under her breath about how she was going to make Trixie tidy her room tomorrow.

It was thoughts of the mess on her floor that made her remember. Once she heard Mom head upstairs, she silently switched on her light again, before slipping from her bed onto the carpet, and starting to shift through the mess. It had to be here, it _had_ to be.

A flash of white caught her attention from under the bed. She reached for it, slowly opening it up as if she had discovered the map to some hidden treasure. And there it was. Her drawing, the one that fell to the floor earlier, and the one Lucifer himself had coloured in, his black wings on display for all to see.

Her first piece of evidence.

_Proof._

Rising from the floor, she carefully flattened the paper out on her desk, smoothing out the creases, before poking the image of Lucifer none too gently.

"I don't know who you are," she whispered to herself, staring at the image of the man pretending to be the Devil.

"But I'm sure as hell going to find out."


	4. Building a Case

The next day, after choir practice, the first thing she did was race into her room, claiming she had homework to do. If Mom was surprised at her enthusiasm, she didn't show it, continuing to unload the shopping they'd picked up on the way home and oblivious to Trixie's sudden disappearance. Which was a good thing, really; the more time she had to work on this undisturbed, the better.

After flinging her backpack onto the bed, Trixie bent down to the floor, pushing at her art chest until it shifted into the space the door normally slid into. It wouldn't stop Mom from coming in if she really wanted to, but it would give her some warning, and she could always play it off as not having put it back properly.

Opening the lid of the chest, she rummaged through the contents, eventually unearthing an as yet unused scrapbook. She unzipped her bag, revealing the drawing she'd stashed in there for safekeeping. Painstakingly, she pasted the rescued artwork onto the first page of the book, tracing the blackened wings with her fingertip when she was done. She would need more than this, she thought, idly flipping through the rest of the blank pages. Much more. If you wanted to catch a bad guy, you had to build a solid case, which meant she had to have as much evidence as possible. Mom taught her that. The lie 'Lucifer' told about having black wings instead white wasn't nearly enough.

With narrowed eyes, she took one last look at the drawing and paused, before scribbling next to it, ' _Evidence No.01: Lucifer's wings aren't black'._ Then she snapped the scrapbook, now her very own case file, shut. After finding a sticky label and placing it on the outside, she neatly labelled the front cover, "Case #LHM666", her tongue between her teeth as she wrote each letter. After a slight pause to admire her handiwork, she added underneath, "Investigated by Beatrice Espinoza."

Mom would be proud. Or, at least, she hoped she would. Trixie had lost count of the amount of times Lucifer had complained about Mom's obsession with 'proper procedure', but she was determined to do this the right way. The way her mom would. She had to, if she wanted people to listen to her.

She just needed to be careful, that's all.

Which meant, at least for now, keeping her investigation a secret. Casting a keen eye around her room, she identified her usual hiding places. Under the bed for cake, inside one of her old stuffed toys for knives... it didn't take long for her to discount both. She didn't have a toy big enough for this, and under the bed was far too obvious, especially for anything that needed to be hidden long term. For cake, it was perfect; cake never lasted for more than a day or so anyway. Especially if Maze got wind of it.

But this… this was important. Lucifer—the fake Lucifer, that is—hadn't been in her room since he got back, but that didn't mean he wouldn't if he got suspicious about what she was up to. She looked around, assessing the possibilities one more time, then made up her mind. Over there, behind the drawers in her dresser. It was perfect. A hiding place that took a bit of effort to access, but when it came to keeping something like this secret, that was actually better. It was a bit like hide and seek really. People expected you to choose somewhere easy, somewhere you could get to quickly. But the harder the spot was to find, the more likely it was that the searcher would give up.

Trixie never gave up though. It was how she found her Christmas presents without fail every single year. Learn how to seek, and you learned how to hide. It was as simple as that.

Knowing there wasn't long until dinnertime, she quickly emptied out the contents of her top drawer on her bed, then jiggled the drawer itself until she could pull it free. Picking up her new treasure, she ran her fingers over the label, smiling as she thought about how the '666' would have made Lucifer laugh. As would the whole case file name, in fact.

She could still remember perfectly the evening she spent pestering him about his middle initial, as well as the sparkle in his eyes as he teased her mercilessly about it. After running through nearly the entire alphabet, he ended up insisting that it was 'H', and then promptly refused to say anything more about it after that. Of course, she knew it wasn't really. The way his lip curled up at one side gave away the fact that it was a joke; it just happened to be a joke she didn't get. And no amount of whining could get him to explain it.

" _H probably stands for something boring then,"_ was her eventual conclusion, knowing Lucifer's aversion to all things he didn't think were 'cool'. Like being a shoe, for instance. A shoe that had vanished from their monopoly set, never to be seen again, despite Mom searching high and low for it. They both knew who had taken it of course, and Trixie was fairly sure he knew that they knew. Yet it remained an unspoken secret between them all.

His response was to fire back, " _Not as boring as Jane,"_ knowing full well she had the same middle name as Mom did. It wasn't boring though, and she informed him as such. Her abuela had told her years ago that Jane meant 'gift from God'—so not quite what Mom said the other day, but similar. And even though Trixie wasn't sure she liked God all that much, considering how mean he was to her friend, being a gift was kind of neat. Getting presents was always awesome.

As soon as she said it though, she wished she hadn't. Lucifer's response was to recoil as though she had struck him, before shaking his head and muttering, "Of course it does. Subtly never was Dad's strong point," with a wry chuckle. He looked so sad… sadder than she'd ever seen him. She should have known better, really, than to mention God. But she never did get a chance to say sorry. Barely a second passed by before he changed the subject, and after that, Lucifer H. Morningstar was never mentioned again.

Her mom's voice rang out from the kitchen. "Trixie! Dinner's ready!"

"Coming, Mom!" she called back, scooping up the scrapbook from the bed and slipping it back behind the other drawers. It would mean removing the bottom drawer every time she wanted to get to it, but for now, it was the safest place she could think of.

"Trixie!"

"I'm _coming!"_ she yelled, scrambling to replace the top drawer and throwing her clothes haphazardly back inside. She could straighten them up later. " _Later,"_ she promised herself as she closed the drawer, knowing that soon she would be filling that case file up to the brim.

Whoever this man was, she wasn't going to let him get away with this.

 _Nobody_ was hurting her mom again.

Not on her watch.

…

By the end of the next day, her case file had already gained multiple entries. There was so much _wrong_ with the way this stranger pretended to be Lucifer, and it was all those things she had noticed that littered each page, surrounding what little physical proof she was able to gather. Unfortunately, most of the things Mom would look for to solve a crime were impossible to find. Lucifer had no fingerprints on record—Auntie Ella had checked for her when Trixie gave the impression she had a school project to do on the subject—and no DNA either. As far as she could see, there were no physical differences, which made sense if something had managed to take over Lucifer's body somehow. Even his signature was the same though; she'd checked the card the day a bunch of snapdragons arrived at the door for her mom.

What she heard and saw with her own eyes made up the majority of what she had gathered. But… that counted as witness testimony, didn't it? It wasn't as though she was going to come across a handwritten diary confessing his secret identity.

Although she might have to sneak into the penthouse when he wasn't there, just to check.

His hugs, his insistence on following the rules, even his strange comments about Hades, they all went into the file. She underlined the fact he kept calling her Trixie three times, just to be certain Mom understood how important that was. Next to the photo her mom had taken of the two of them with their faces painted, she stuck a print out of the definition of a snapdragon flower. And then, she realised it could be used as another piece of evidence as well.

Mom might not have thought Lucifer's sudden skill as an artist strange at the time, but Trixie knew better. The drawing he did, he had managed to destroy, but the face painting was almost as good. Even better, it was a proof Mom had seen with her own eyes, even if she didn't realise it yet. Thankfully, she also managed to find one of the actual Lucifer's drawings in the middle of a bunch of old paintings under her bed. This, she stuck in next to the photograph as a comparison, along with her now typical annotation.

' _Evidence No.15: Lucifer can't paint'._

…

It was Dad that gave her the next clue. To her surprise, when he dropped her off at home after gymnastics, Mom and Luci-phony were already there. The atmosphere became tense the second Dad entered the room, his dislike of Mom's partner as clear as ever, and, for the first time, she saw that even with the 'new' Lucifer, the feeling was mutual.

While Trixie showed her parents what she learned in class that day, the would-be Devil didn't even watch, far more interested in whatever game he was playing on his phone. By this point, she didn't really care, but her Dad did. When he brought the subject up though, and things started to get heated, Mom shooed her away into her room, just like she used to when she was little and it was her and Dad arguing.

She hadn't been little for a long time though, and she had no need to hide under her bed anymore, her fingers jammed in her ears in the vain hope it would block out the shouting from outside. Now, when she heard the patio doors open and close as Mom dragged Dad outside, she merely snuck out of her window, creeping around to the side gate where she could hear what they were saying.

"How can you just stand by and let this happen, Chlo? He acts like she isn't even in the room!"

"He's trying, Dan. He's been babysitting, spending time with us…"

"You left him _alone_ with our daughter?"

"Yes _._ Yes I did. Lucifer would never hurt her, not in a million years. And sometimes, believe it or not, I have no other _choice_."

"Like you had no choice with Marcus, the murderer you let look after her too?"

Neither of them spoke for a few seconds, and then, finally, Dad said, "Chlo, I—"

But Mom didn't let him finish. "You need to leave. Right now."

"Fine. But you're letting him take you for a fool, Chloe. Just like you did before."

Despite what she had previously thought, it still hurt to hear her parents fight. It hurt a lot, actually. She took a hesitant step backwards, wondering whether to retreat to her room and save herself the heartache. But then, the patio door opened again, and the sound of a crisp British accent joined in.

"Are you two quite finished? I believe your _ex-_ wife and I have better things to do, and I'd imagine your daughter is as tired of listening to this as I am."

 _Crap._ How the hell did he know she was there? Quickly spinning on her heels, she took for her bedroom window, cursing the sound of the gravel crunching underneath her feet. She was so busted, she knew that, but it didn't stop her from trying to get away with it anyway.

After practically throwing herself through her open window, she landed on the floor with a thump, before rolling to her feet, grabbing her backpack, and collapsing onto the bed. By the time Mom was at the door, she was lying on her stomach, a school textbook in front of her as she put on her most innocent expression. "Hi Mom!" she said with a smile, hoping she didn't sound as breathless as she felt.

Mom fixed her with a look Trixie knew she normally saved for interviewing suspects at the station. "How's the homework going?" she asked pointedly, nodding towards the book Trixie held in her hands.

"Great!" Trixie replied brightly. "I'll be done before dinner. Are we having pizza tonight?"

"I'll ask Lucifer," Mom replied, her eyes narrowing. "He mentioned something about cooking." She wandered further into the room, casting a suspicious glance over the open window before bending down to pick up a few things that had fallen off the sill, casualties of her dive bomb back into the room. "Your dad's leaving, by the way."

Trixie nodded, scrambling off the bed so she could go and say goodbye. Before she could leave the room though, her mom spoke again. "Oh, and Monkey? People who eavesdrop never hear anything good, you know."

 _Damn._ This was the problem with having a detective for a mom; it was really hard to get anything past her. It was incredibly unfair really, none of her other friends had to deal with having lie detectors for parents. She paused briefly in the doorway, before turning back again. "Sorry, Mom," she said with a defeated sigh.

"That's okay," Mom said, a small smile gracing her lips. "Just... try to remember, sometimes we do these things to protect you."

She shook her head with gusto. "I don't need protecting anymore."

 _Not when I'm the one protecting you,_ she thought.

Mom chuckled, standing up from where she was crouched on the floor and moving closer, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head. "I know, you're all grown up now. But you'll always be a baby to me."

Trixie rolled her eyes. " _Moooom,"_ she said exaggeratedly, but they both knew she didn't really mean it. With a gentle push, Mom encouraged her out of the room.

"Go say bye to your dad," she instructed, "and I'll call the pizza place. Lucifer can just cook another night."

Secretly, she was actually pretty pleased about that, and she suspected Mom was too. He'd only made dinner a couple of times for them after his 'return', and on both occasions, it was the very definition of flavourless, and nothing compared to the kind of meals Lucifer used to make. Mom said he was just out of practice. Trixie thought it was yet more evidence.

Dad was hovering by the front door, still glowering at the other man in the room. Trixie dashed over to give him a hug, both as a farewell, and for making her feel like there was someone else on her side, even if he didn't really know there was a side to be on. She wished she could tell him what was going on. But with Dad still out of the loop when it came to Lucifer, she didn't see how she could. Besides, Dad not knowing was a good thing. She could only imagine how badly _that_ revelation would go.

"I'll see you on Friday, Trix," Dad said. "Be good for your mom, okay? No more spying."

She sighed inwardly. When it came to the parental career department, she'd definitely been cursed.

"Are you not taking it with you?"

The sound of what she still thought of as Lucifer's voice was closer than she expected it to be, and when she turned around, his copycat stood behind her.

"Did—Did you just call my daughter an ' _it'?"_ Dad growled, sounding as angry as she'd ever heard him.

He received little more than a shrug in reply. "Fine, if you insist. Are you not taking _her_ with you? I'm sure her mother would appreciate being relieved of the burden for a while. I know I would."

"You're unbelievable," Dad muttered through gritted teeth. His fists clenched by his sides. "Chloe has a kid, _our_ kid, and if you want to be with her, you need to accept that. You can't just ship her off somewhere else when you've had enough."

"Why not?" the taller man said, already looking bored with the conversation. He tugged on his collar before straightening his jacket. It was something he did often now, as though he found wearing a shirt uncomfortable. "Isn't that _exactly_ what you do?"

Dad stepped forward, his fist rising, but then his eyes flickered down in her direction and he stopped. With a slow exhale, he backed away again, his hand reaching for the door handle. " _Vete al infierno,"_ he said bitterly, and Trixie sucked in a breath. He so rarely spoke Spanish, and when he did, it was usually to swear. Not that she was supposed to know that, but Lucifer was always happy to give her some extra Spanish lessons when she asked. Especially those outside of anything she would ever learn in a classroom.

Which is probably why, despite what she knew, she was so shocked when he didn't reply. Normally, she would have expected to hear something along the lines of, " _No thank you, I just got back,"_ or " _I already did,"_ but instead, he just stared blankly, before a smirk spread over his face. "I thought so," he said, pivoting on his heel and walking over to join Mom, who was still on the phone in the kitchen.

Dad watched him leave, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. Then he huffed, shaking his head in disgust, before offering her an apologetic smile. "Friday then," he said sadly. "And if you need me, you call me, okay?"

"I will, Dad, I promise," she said, giving him one last hug before he left.

Once he was gone, she watched the two adults in the kitchen for a few minutes, Mom gesturing at what looked like a fast food leaflet while the man next to her pulled a face. The man posing as someone she _knew_ spoke Spanish, just like he did every language. The Lucifer of old would never have just let Dad's insult slide.

But this one did. Because this one, hadn't understood it.

Still, the voice in her brain that demanded her investigation be thorough in every way, argued it wasn't enough. Thankfully though, she had the perfect solution.

Mom smiled at her as she approached the kitchen, ruffling her hair as she brushed past on her way to the bathroom. "Pizza won't be long," she said. "Think you can get your homework done, so we can watch a movie afterwards?"

Trixie nodded, before looking at Lucifer and actually managing to catch his eye for a change. Pitching her voice as low as she could manage, and letting the syllables scratch against the back of her throat, she ground out, " _Mors van tyd, is ek reg?"_

The supposed King of Hell raised an eyebrow, and called out after Mom, "Were you aware your child is speaking tongues?" When Mom didn't answer—Trixie doubted she'd even heard him, not with the water running—he pulled out his phone yet again, muttering to himself, "Just thought you should know..."

But Trixie didn't care that he was ignoring her, not this time. When she marched back into her bedroom, it was with a triumphant smile. She couldn't pull out her case file, not with him still in the apartment, but she already knew what she would be adding to it later.

' _Evidence No.33: The Devil doesn't speak Lilim.'_

…

When the time came to go to Dad's for the weekend, she bailed, claiming a stomach ache. She felt bad about it, of course. It was obvious during his last visit that Dad wanted her there, but she couldn't leave Mom alone, not now. As soon as she heard that Mom was going to be spending the weekend at the penthouse, she knew she had to find a way to stop it happening. Strangely though, after Mom made the call to cancel, she seemed almost… relieved.

For her part, it would mean having to keep up the pretense, Trixie was actually looking forward to spending some time just the two of them. It was now a little over two weeks since this imposter had invaded their lives, and he was always around. She missed how it was before. She missed how it could have been if the _actual_ Lucifer were here.

But it wasn't to be. Less than thirty minutes after her phone call ended, Mom opened the door to a disappointingly familiar visitor, carrying what was also a disappointingly familiar cake box.

"Lucifer!" Mom said, automatically reaching out to take the box from him. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't stay long," he said stiffly, "as you are aware, we did have plans. My presence is expected at the club."

Mom's eyes dropped guiltily to the floor for a second, meaning she didn't see when he glared in Trixie's direction. "But I believe sweet things are considered to be a cure for human illnesses?" he continued, nodding at the item in Mom's hand.

She brightened considerably at that, taking the box to the counter and opening it. "Lemon bars and chocolate cake!" she exclaimed, smiling widely up at him. "You remembered."

He flinched when she wrapped her arms around him, but Mom didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she was just used to it. After a moment, he squirmed out of her grasp. "Yes, well, Ella was very informative when it came to your likes and dislikes," he said, missing it when Mom's happy expression dipped slightly. "And my brother appeared to think I shouldn't abandon you tonight."

From her place on the sofa, she could see when Mom closed her eyes, just for a second or two, before she took a deep breath and plastered on a smile again. Placing a hand on his wrist, she said, "Well, you asked, and you came, that's what's important. You _care_ , Lucifer. It's… it's one of the things I love about you."

Trixie held her breath, waiting to see how he would answer. This was the first time she had heard Mom say something like this, to his face anyway.

But he barely acknowledged it at all, instead rounding the breakfast bar to grab a knife from one of the drawers. "Well, I suppose someone had to be able to find _something_ to love about me," he said. "Father always did." Turning the open box around to face him, a grin spread across his face, and he drove the knife into the cake with glee. "Until he didn't."

"Okaaaay," Mom said, her eyes like saucers as she watched him. Trixie wondered if she found that whole scene as disturbing as she did. Edging away from him, she turned towards the living room, smiling sympathetically when she saw Trixie still bundled up in blankets on the sofa. Trixie felt a flush of shame at that; she hated lying to her Mom, especially about stuff like this, but she consoled herself with the fact that, this time, it was important.

"Feeling up to some cake, Monkey?"

Trixie shook her head. Truth be told, she wouldn't have had any even if she _wasn't_ claiming to be ill. Lucifer _hated_ that bakery. Together, they had worked their way through most of the patisseries in the city, searching for the best chocolate cake Los Angeles had to offer. He spent hours educating her on what counted as 'good' chocolate, complete with the necessary taste tests, of course. That particular patissier had been struck off Lucifer's list of worthy vendors the moment their ganache touched his lips, meaning Trixie refused to subject herself to it either.

Even if part of her was still tempted.

It wasn't long after the cake was finished that it was just the two of them again. Mom just shook her head when he asked if she was sure she couldn't come, cutting him off with a kiss that Trixie quickly averted her eyes from when he said, "But isn't it time to—"

"Soon," Mom replied after the kiss was over. "I'll see you soon, okay?" She sounded strangely panicked, almost as if she couldn't wait to get him out the door.

Seconds later, and he was gone. Mom was quiet when she returned, and for a while they watched _The Parent Trap_ in silence, until finally, Trixie felt like she had to say something.

"Mom?"

She lifted her head from where she was cuddled into her mom's side, shifting until she sat upright. Mom bent forward to pick up the remote from the coffee table, pausing the movie.

"You feeling okay, sweetheart?" Mom said, placing a flat palm on Trixie's forehead. Trixie nodded.

"I'm alright." Mom's hand fell from her head, and she grabbed it on the way down, squeezing tightly. "I'm sorry for ruining your weekend though."

Mom brought her other hand over to cover Trixie's, giving her a quick squeeze right back. "Don't you worry about that, Monkey, you aren't ruining anything."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Trixie pushed forward. "But you and Lucifer were going to have a sleepover, weren't you?"

"Well, yes…" Mom said, shifting awkwardly on the sofa cushion. "But, um, I don't think we're ready... for that, quite yet. To sleepover, I mean. I haven't, er... bought a spare toothbrush to take with me."

Trixie nodded, feeling relieved that Mom wasn't upset with her for ruining her plans. But what about who she had been planning to spend that time with?

"Won't Lucifer miss you though? Were you going to go to the club tonight?"

She heard her mom give a small sigh. "I'm fairly certain he'll be fine without me," she said quietly, before appearing to catch herself. She leaned forward then, whispering conspiratory in Trixie's ear. " _Besides, I'm kind of pleased I don't have to dress up, you know?"_

Trixie giggled. She did know. Grandma still tried to dress her up like a doll every time she visited, and she _hated_ it. "But won't he want to sing a song for you?"

Mom frowned, her eyes falling to the ground and sadness drifting over her face. She shook her head. "Lucifer didn't have the piano reinstalled after he came back, sweetheart. He doesn't perform anymore."

It was Trixie's turn to frown then. "But you don't need a piano to sing…?"

"You're right," Mom said, turning to face the television again and lifting an arm as Trixie could squeeze back into the space. "You don't."

Silence fell again as Mom hit play, but this time Trixie held her just that little bit tighter. And later, when everywhere was dark and Mom had gone to bed, she crept back out into the living room, removing a particular frame from the mantle as quietly as she could.

When she got back to her room, she carefully started to remove the photo with one hand, her phone in the other as she dialled Maze's number. It only took a couple of seconds before her voicemail kicked in for the thousandth time. She jabbed at the screen with a frustrated groan, closing the call. Of all the times for Maze to go off grid, it had to be now, didn't it? Now, when she needed her help more than ever. All she could do was keep trying, and hope that she picked up soon. In the meantime, she fired off another text, telling her to call her.

Until then though, she would just have to carry on as she was. At least that way she was doing _something._ She pulled out her case file, the picture of Mom and Lucifer in LUX she'd stolen clutched in one hand. It was with a heavy heart that she secured it to the page, this single piece of evidence affecting her more than the rest, for some reason. Maybe because it seemed to upset Mom so much as well. Either way, when she slid the book back into its place, there was a new, saddened observation decorating the page.

' _Evidence No.45: Lucifer doesn't sing anymore.'_

…

The next entry in her book was waiting for her when she opened the front door Monday morning. 'Lucifer' stood in the doorway, the sunlight streaming in from behind him, but in that instant, she didn't know which was more blinding; that, or the suit he was wearing. He was dressed in what she could only describe as a shade of gone-off mustard. Trixie was so taken aback that it wasn't until he coughed pointedly, that she realised she hadn't actually let him in yet. Standing aside, she watched as he waltzed into the apartment, placing the bag of breakfast he'd brought with him down on the kitchen counter.

Mom, as was usual in a morning, was rushing around trying to get everything ready in time before they had to leave for school. Even she skidded to a halt when she spotted their early morning visitor though, staring at him in a way that was completely different to how she normally did. "Oh," she said, sounding surprised, "I didn't realise you still had… _that."_ She gestured at his jacket, her face neutral apart from the slight widening of her eyes.

"This?" Lucifer replied, looking down at himself with a proud smile. "Yes, I discovered it stashed in the back of my closet. Father knows why I put it there. Rather marvellous, isn't it?"

"Hmm," Mom hummed, "It's certainly… different, to what you normally wear."

"Well, there's always room for improvement," he stated bluntly, turning around and starting to unload his supplies. "Now, do we have time for breakfast?"

...

They didn't have time for breakfast. Mom never did when they were running late. Lucifer was there so early because they were still working on that big case, which meant neither of her parents would be able to pick her up from school tonight. There were no clubs on either, and so she was faced with a choice of going back to an empty apartment, or doing what had now become a regular after-school activity, and going to see her favourite baby angel.

Not that Charlie was much of a baby anymore. He didn't have wings yet, but they were going to have so much fun playing together when he did. She wondered how old he would need to be before he was strong enough to carry her. With three angels in her life now—if the real Lucifer still counted, that is—she was determined that _someone_ was going to take her flying.

And it certainly wasn't going to be Amenadiel. Not without Mom's permission—unlikely—and even then, she couldn't see Auntie Linda being keen on the idea.

The whole Auntie thing with Mom's friends had started just after Lucifer first went away. With Mom so sad and Maze so busy… it was the 'tribe', as they called themselves, that stepped in to help when they could. Whether that was Auntie Ella with a science project, or Auntie Linda turning up at the door with takeout. In that time, they had become family, and so Trixie decided to refer to them as such.

Which left her here, watching Charlie play with his toys in the living room, while his parents prepared dinner in the kitchen. It was the ideal time to follow up on her lead from this morning, and check if the conclusions she had made were correct. Of course, it wasn't like she thought she was wrong, she had _eyes_ , after all, but a second opinion couldn't hurt.

After hunting through the pencil case in her bag for a minute or two, she finally found the colours she needed, and made a start. Diligently, she copied the photograph she'd managed to snap of that awful suit, including the purple vest and tartan pocket square it had been paired with. When she was finally satisfied she had a good enough likeness, she slipped the phone back into her rucksack, before wandering over to find Uncle Amenadiel in the kitchen.

He looked up as she drew near, stopping what he was doing and smiling. "Everything okay, Trixie?" he said, his eyes darting towards Charlie for a moment, who was still happily playing on the rug where she left him.

"What do you think of this?" she asked, holding the drawing up. When he frowned slightly, she added, "We're doing a class on clothes at school. I wanted to know if you thought this suit went together? Do you think Lucifer would like it?"

Her question seemed to please him immensely. His chest puffed out as he straightened fully, and Trixie saw Auntie Linda roll her eyes a little from behind him. "Go on," Auntie Linda said, gently nudging him with her elbow. "Flex those dad muscles of yours, I know you want to." She grinned at Trixie before turning back to the stove, whispering dramatically, " _He likes to practice."_

The angel pointedly ignored her, taking the drawing from Trixie and studying it intently. "Well, Trixie," he said. "I think you chose the perfect set of colours. I'm sure this is a suit Lucifer would be proud to wear."

 _No, he wouldn't,_ Trixie thought to herself, _but he did._

"What about you?" she asked Auntie Linda, who looked back over her shoulder.

Amenadiel showed her the drawing. "Well," she said kindly, "They're not the colours I would have chosen, but if you like them, that's all the matters."

"Thanks," Trixie replied brightly, holding out her hand for the paper to be returned. "That really helps!" Amenadiel carefully handed back the artwork, holding it gently, as though it were something precious.

As she headed back to the living room, she heard Auntie Linda say quietly, "You don't have to lie, you know. Kids her age can tell if you are."

There was silence for a moment, and then the angel replied, sounding very confused.

"I wasn't lying..."

…

As soon as she was home again, Trixie printed the photo of Lucifer's suit from her phone, attaching it to her drawing from earlier and sticking it into her scrapbook. She smiled as she looked at it, pleased that Amenadiel was able to confirm her suspicions. At the side of the page, she labelled her eye witness testimony accordingly, as usual.

' _Evidence No.71: Terrible fashion sense'._

…

Just one week after the day she first started, Trixie was sat up in bed, a small flashlight in her hand as she flicked through the evidence she had collected so far. The book was now twice its original size. It was so full, in fact, that it was nearly time to start a new one. She almost couldn't believe how quickly it had become fit to bursting; so much so that she couldn't believe she had _ever_ mistaken this man for Lucifer. That _anyone_ would.

He seemed to have everyone fooled though, even Auntie Linda, who was watching her tonight. Although, truth be told, that could be a lot to do with the fact that he hadn't returned to therapy. Auntie Linda didn't seem surprised by that; when Trixie had asked, she said Lucifer had 'fired' her before he left.

It didn't surprise Trixie either, but for a completely different reason.

If she was trying to pretend to be someone else, she wouldn't want somebody that knew that person well digging around in her head either.

When she heard the sound of the front door opening, she smiled. Mom was home early, which meant she'd get to see her tonight. Hopefully, that meant the case that had kept her away a lot lately, which in turn had kept her with _him_ , was over. She slipped out from her bed, hoping to say goodbye to Auntie Linda before she went, but at the sound of voices outside, she halted. She'd been wrong; it wasn't Mom coming inside, it was Auntie Linda going _out._

Silently, she knelt down underneath her window, edging it open just a little further, enough as she could listen in.

"Thanks for tonight, Linda," she heard Mom say. "This case has been a hard one for all of us."

"No problem at all. She's a delight, truly. Besides, it's good practice for when Charlie gets older."

Mom chuckled slightly, sounding tired. "You're right there. I'll warn you now, it happens before you know it. I swear, it feels like only yesterday I was holding her in my arms and now… just look at her."

"You should be proud. I can only hope Charlie turns out the same way."

"I'm sure he will. You and Amenadiel are great parents. And… maybe a little more than just co-parents these days?" Mom said teasingly.

This time, it was Auntie Linda who laughed. "No, no, that's done with now. Amenadiel is a wonderful man—a wonderful _angel_ —in so many ways, but the world he lives in is so different from ours… it's difficult enough navigating raising a baby with a celestial, never mind actually being in a _relation_ —"

The sound of a sob broke through what Auntie Linda was saying, and to Trixie's horror, she realised her mom was crying.

"Oh, Chloe, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No, no," her mom choked out, her voice trembling. "It's fine, it's just—"

She dissolved into tears again, and it took everything Trixie had not to run out there.

Eventually though, the weeping finally stopped, leaving her sniffing softly. "Everything is just so… so _different._ And I know, I _know_ he's been through a lot, and there's so much he hasn't told me… but honestly, Linda, sometimes it's like he's not even him anymore."

Silence fell, and for a minute, all she could hear was the sound of Mom's ragged breathing. Hope fluttered in her chest, the hope that Mom might finally be realising the same thing she had.

"And I'm trying," Mom continued. "I'm trying _so hard_ to be there for him, but…"

"But what?" Auntie Linda asked gently.

"Sometimes I think he doesn't feel the same way about me anymore."

"Oh, _Chloe."_

Trixie stood then, craning her neck to see if she could actually spot where Mom and Auntie Linda were standing. The angle was all wrong though, and she couldn't see a thing. But she could hear her Mom crying again, and it made her hate the man doing this to her more than ever.

"He doesn't even want to… you know... have a _sleepover,"_ Mom said, putting a strange emphasis on the word. "Well, he says he does, just like he says he loves me— _said_ he loves me, that is. He's only done it once, since he got back. But it doesn't _feel_ like he wants to. It's like… like he thinks he _has_ to. And that's not Lucifer, is it? That's not Lucifer at all!"

"Things might be different with you, Chloe."

" _That_ different though? And what's worse, I'm not even sure _I_ want to. We had plans last weekend for me to stay at the penthouse, but Trixie was sick, so I couldn't go. And I was _relieved._ What does that say about me, Linda? About us?"

"It says you're a woman who knows taking things slowly is important right now."

Mom sighed. "I guess that's true. Rushing into things isn't a mistake I want to make again. I just… I thought now he's home, that everything would be okay. That we'd finally get our happy ending."

"Real life rarely works out like that, unfortunately. All we can do is make the best of it. And while neither of us can even imagine what Lucifer went through down there, there are certain things about him that will never change. Most importantly—"

"Lucifer doesn't lie."

" _Exactly._ So if he tells you he loves you, if he says he wants to move forward with you, try to take him at his word. I know it's hard; dealing with a significant change in personality is difficult for anybody. You just need to take things one day at a time. And if one of you isn't ready to take that next step, well, you've both waited this long, I'm sure a few more weeks won't hurt."

Mom snorted, in that way she so often did when she laughed without meaning to. When her laughter died, she said quietly, "You're right, Linda. I doubted him once before, and look where that got me. I just need to trust him, and help him however I can."

"Have you tried encouraging him to come back to therapy again?"

"He won't. He says he doesn't need it. And he's not the only one I'm worried about. Trixie… I'm not sure she understands why he's being so distant."

"I can talk to her, if you like? Child psychology isn't my area, but…"

"It's okay, I got it. Like you said, we just need to give it some time. Things will get better. They have to."

"Well, you know I'm here if you need me. The same goes for Amenadiel."

"Thanks, Linda. And thanks again for tonight, for Trixie… and for the talk. I really appreciate it."

"What are friends for?"

The front door opened and closed again, and Trixie dashed back into bed.

Suddenly, the reason 'Lucifer' had Mom so fooled made perfect sense. She still thought he wouldn't lie to her.

But he was. He lied all the time.

Which made the answer simple, really.

She just needed to make Mom see it for herself.


	5. When in Rome

It was nothing out of the ordinary, to have her mom pick her up from school. What was unusual though, was to see her mom's car parked right out in front when she ran out of the school gates, where no car was _ever_ allowed to be. The carpool line was sacred above all things around here; you got in, you got out, and you _definitely_ didn't jump the queue.

Mom might face down dangerous criminals on a daily basis, but even she wasn't willing to risk the wrath of the other parents in the carpool.

As Trixie drew closer though, she realised exactly why Mom's car was there. Because _Mom_ wasn't in it.

 _So that's one thing that hasn't changed,_ she thought as she approached, not-Lucifer's familiar figure silhouetted in the driver's seat. One of her teachers was talking to him through the open car window, but to her surprise, when she got to the car, she found Miss Mariam wasn't talking at all.

She was _yelling._

Unsurprisingly, this wasn't the first time Lucifer had broken the rules. _Her_ Lucifer, that is. He found the idea of waiting in a carpool line abhorrent; or at least that was how he had described it to Mom, after she received a catalogue of complaints during parent's evening. No, both he _and_ the Corvette deserved to be displayed up front and centre, and if her mom "insisted on him retrieving the urchin from prison" then he would continue to park where he liked, _thank you very much._

Not that Trixie had any complaints. Jumping into a convertible at the end of the school day, alongside the owner of the hottest nightclub in the city, didn't exactly do any harm to her street cred.

The yelling though? That was new. Normally, her teacher would have been putty in his hands by now. Instead, Miss Mariam was lecturing him on everything from proper pick up procedure through to his 'unacceptable attitude' regarding his behaviour. Not that it made a blind bit of difference, considering the man sat behind the wheel ignored her the entire time.

" _Trixie Espinoza!"_ Miss Mariam said sharply, and Trixie winced at the sound of her normal sedate teacher so irate. Whatever charm Lucifer held over her in the past had _definitely_ worn off during his absence. "Will you _please_ inform your mother's partner that he cannot park here."

' _Mother's partner'._ As always, she had to hold back a giggle at that. After being mistaken for Trixie's step-father—or much to his horror, her actual _father_ —one too many times, Lucifer had somehow managed to strike a deal with the school board that meant every member of staff was to be informed of his status in her life. Of course, everyone automatically assumed 'partner' meant 'boyfriend', but it hadn't escaped her attention that not once did Lucifer correct anyone on that.

"Yes, Miss Mariam," she replied meekly, all the while thinking, _he won't listen._ To be fair, the actual Lucifer wouldn't have either. _He_ just wouldn't be getting in trouble for it.

Scurrying around to the passenger seat, she opened the door and jumped inside. It was only then that her chauffeur for the trip home came to life, winding up the window without even acknowledging that the woman standing on the other side had ever been there at all.

"Finally," he said gruffly, starting the engine and pulling away from the gates before Trixie even had a chance to get her seatbelt buckled in. Ten seconds later and he'd switched on the sirens, red and blue flashing lights flashing through the car windows as he maneuvered his way through traffic.

"You're not supposed to do that," she said, thinking of all the times Mom had refused to point blank, even when they were running really, _really_ late for something. Lucifer had his own set of lights for the Corvette—because of course he did—but even he saved them for 'emergencies'. She had it on good authority though from Maze, that emergencies only _ever_ occurred when Mom needed him for something.

The man masquerading as her friend didn't even look at her, focusing on the road as he swerved between two cars, nearly knocking over a motorcyclist in the process. "Well, I'm not supposed to waste my time being a taxi driver either," he said snarkily, "and yet here we are."

A horn blared from behind them, causing her to jump in her seat. "You could hurt someone, driving like that," she scolded. "Mom wouldn't like it."

"Forgive me if I fail to trust your mother's judgement on what she does and does not like," he snapped back, slamming on the brakes as traffic ground to a halt in front of them. Bit by bit, cars did their best to make room for the cruiser to get through, but a jam was a jam, and they ended up going nowhere fast. She could almost feel his glare on her face as he turned his head towards her sharply. "After all, she appears to like _you."_

Trixie didn't react, telling herself that she knew this wasn't Lucifer now, and that meant it shouldn't hurt. That it _didn't_ hurt. She concentrated on the fact that Lucifer liked her just fine, even if he would probably never willingly admit it. And while he didn't always obey the traffic laws the way Mom wanted him to, he certainly did while _she_ was in the car.

Unless you counted the driving lessons, that is. Driving lessons the man next to her could definitely do with. He could barely drive an automatic; she hated to think what he'd be like driving stick.

And speaking of driving stick… "Why don't you use the Corvette anymore?" she asked curiously, only just having noted its absence. "Is it because it's a manual?"

His fingers tightened upon the steering wheel. "I believe your mother has informed you of my condition?" he said, not particularly sounding like he cared if she actually had.

Trixie nodded. "You can't remember stuff."

"Well, it appears you already know the answer then. Rather a pointless question in that case, wasn't it?"

Traffic shifted forward a bit, and they moved accordingly, until there was just enough of a gap to squeeze through. The engine roared to life again as they took off towards home.

It wasn't a pointless question though. In fact, it was exactly the right one to make her think. The answer to what she needed to do to make Mom believe her—outside of just showing her the case file, that is—might have been simple, but actually making it happen, was not.

Trixie wasn't daft. All kinds of things could be explained away if you said you couldn't remember them. Especially if you had a good _reason_ for not remembering them. Mom said Lucifer had been away for a long time, but Trixie knew that 'a long time' could mean thousands and thousands of years. Sometimes, Dad couldn't remember where he'd put his keys the night before; forgetting a few things after spending so much time in Hell made sense.

Well, it made sense if you didn't notice all the _other_ things wrong with him, that is.

So if every time he didn't act like Lucifer, or didn't know something Lucifer would know, he could blame it on Hell, how was she supposed to combat that? Every time he lied, Mom believed him. It was hard to think of a way to make her see the lie, when she wasn't even looking for it.

But… what if how to combat it was the question that was wrong? What if it wasn't the lies about what he couldn't remember that was important, but the lies about what he _could._ What if he lied about something that never even happened?

By the time they pulled into the apartment complex, Trixie was smiling. It didn't matter what this stranger said to her, not anymore. It didn't matter that he thought he was winning. She had her answer, and now, she had a plan.

She didn't have to convince Mom that his truths were lies.

She had to make him believe _her_ lies were truth.

...

Sometime later, after polishing off what little homework she had that day, and scrawling ' _Can't drive stick'_ onto a post-it note to remind her to add into the case file once its subject had left for the night, she flopped down onto the sofa next to said subject, her usual pre-dinner snack in hand. Usual didn't mean it was allowed, but she managed to sneak it anyway.

"So," she said, not phased in the slightest by the way he deliberately ignored her, bringing the book he was reading a little closer to his face, as if he thought he could hide within its pages. "What _do_ you remember?"

While she waited for him to reply, the sound of crunching filled the otherwise silent room. Over six months had passed since Lucifer left, yet she was still working her way through his secret stash of cool ranch puffs she'd found on the top shelf of one of the kitchen cupboards. It was funny, how both Lucifer _and_ Mom seemed to be under the impression she couldn't get up there. You'd think the fact that their snacks went missing would clue them in, but no, everyone still thought she was shorter than she actually was.

Well, either that or they were just blaming it on Maze.

She continued to stuff her mouth full, more than willing to ask the question again if she needed to. And to continue to ask it, until she got an answer.

After another full minute of chewing as loudly as she possibly could, he put the book down with an exasperated sigh. "I remember a lot of things," he said, looking at her as though she were stupid. "Did you mean to refer to something in particular?"

Oh, she did, but she wasn't ready to give _that_ game away quite yet. "Disneyland?" she asked brightly, remembering with fondness the look on Lucifer—and Maze's—face when they dragged them there for her birthday.

He shook his head.

"The beach? The aquarium? The pier? What about my school musical?"

She rattled off as many questions as she could think of at him in quick succession. Most he said no to, but some received nods. She expected that; a day at the beach was, well, a day at the beach. It was pretty easy to pretend you remembered going.

But this was the big one, the one question her entire plan hinged on. She looked pointedly towards the side table, at the collection of photo frames there. "What about Rome?" she asked, being careful to keep her tone exactly as it was before. She couldn't afford to give anything anyway, not now. "You remember Rome don't you? It was where you told Mom you loved her for the first time!"

He followed her gaze, until his eyes landed straight on the largest photo, the one a passing stranger had taken of her and Mom outside of the Colosseum. _You could have taken that,_ she thought to herself, _It could have easily been you._ His silence continued, and she had to fight the urge to stop breathing, to keep appearing as normal as possible.

Eventually, he picked up his book again. "Of course I remember," he said bitterly, "I'm hardly likely to forget that, am I? Now, don't you have anything better to do?"

She did indeed. Without another word, she retreated back to her room again, a triumphant smile on her face. The trap was set. All she had to do now, was hope he fell into it.

And if he didn't, well, she would just have to find a way to give him a not-so-gentle shove.

…

Not long after that Mom got home, full of apologies for getting stuck at the precinct, and then even more stuck when her Uber hit rush hour. Not that Trixie minded; it might have been days before she could set her plan into motion otherwise. Dinner was mostly spent in silence, the man at the head of the table clearly having used up his conversation quota for the day when it came to her. Sensing that he was about to leave at the nearest opportunity, Trixie decided to give him another out instead. An out that might also finally get him out of their lives, if everything went well.

"Why don't you and Mom go for a walk on the beach?" she said, trying to pose the question as a throwaway suggestion while she tidied up the dishes. "I can clean up."

"Oh, I don't know—" Mom started, but she was quickly cut off by her future walking partner.

"What an excellent idea!" he said, springing from his seat almost instantly, his previous lethargy disappearing entirely. If she didn't know any better, she might have thought he was actually praising her. Instead, she knew full well it was nothing more than the prospect of escape that had him so eager. "Come along, my dear," he said, waggling his fingers at Mom, before going to fetch his shoes.

Mom looked at her, a frown creasing her brow. "You're sure?" she asked, seemingly reluctant to leave. Trixie nodded enthusiastically.

"You should have a proper date, Mom. Lucifer's been back nearly three weeks, and all you've done is work!" She turned away to start loading the dishwasher, before casually adding, "Maybe you should plan a holiday or something?"

_And maybe, just maybe, you'll talk about Rome._

"Okay then," Mom said, and when Trixie looked back, she was smiling up at the man now standing beside her. She looked so happy, and for a second, Trixie felt guilty. But she needed to make Mom see the truth, even if it did break her heart.

With a cheery wave, she watched them leave through the patio doors, hand in hand as they made their way toward the shortcut down to the beach. After throwing the rest of the dishes in the dishwasher at random—including the ones that weren't actually really supposed to go in there—she quickly wiped down the counters and table, before looking around the kitchen and congratulating herself on a job well done.

And now, she could move on to more important things.

With no guarantee that the imposter in their lives would be revealed tonight, she decided it was best to continue with her investigation. After all, it wouldn't be long until she could show what she'd found to her mom, and really open her eyes. Excitement filled her at the thought of what Mom might do, what she might say. Mom got to save people all the time, how would she feel when this time it was Trixie who got to save her?

Over by the front door, Lucifer's jacket remained on the coat hook, forgotten in his keenness to leave the apartment. She'd spotted it the moment they left, an idea instantly forming in her mind. With the exception of that monstrosity from the other day, she had never really seen any of Lucifer's passion for his suits in his replacement. Now, she figured, was the ideal time to test that theory.

Retrieving a knife from the drawer, she balanced it in her hand, testing the weight. Just as she was about to throw it though, she had a better idea, tossing it back inside and returning to the dishwasher. Less than 30 seconds later, and the dirtiest knife she could find was buried in the sleeve of Lucifer's jacket, pinning it to the wall.

Best to ruin it in as many ways as possible, she figured. Already sorting through several possible 'apologies' in her mind, she attached a hastily drawn target to the wall above the jacket, hoping to pass it off as training gone wrong. Unfortunately, Maze was still out of touch, something her mom was more than aware of, otherwise she would have gone for the tried and tested 'Maze told me to do it' excuse.

Thankfully, unlike Lucifer, Maze never minded being blamed for anything. Especially if it involved knives.

Thinking of Maze made her sad. She wished she would call. The last few days, Trixie had sent her text after text; mainly questions and theories about what was going on. But she never received a reply. Canada was stupid, she decided. Stupid, and it had too many mountains.

Once she was satisfied with the destruction of the jacket, she glanced up at the clock on the wall, debating how much time she had left alone. Her eyes darted to the television, then to the door, and back to the television again. Figuring it was worth the risk, she switched off all the lights, throwing herself over the back of the sofa, where she promptly landed on the pile of blankets they had yet to put away from the weekend. After successfully finding the remotes, she switched on Netflix.

After all, the last hour of the Shining couldn't be _that_ bad, could it?

…

It _was_ that bad. It was really bad.

But not as bad as what happened next.

The credits had just started to roll when Mom walked back in, the door shutting behind her with a loud click. Through the glass, Trixie could just about see a Lucifer-shaped silhouette outside, highlighted by the glow of a cigarette in his hand as he leaned against the wall of the apartment. She quickly looked away. It wasn't that she thought he would hurt her, he was mean, but he wasn't _violent_ , not as far as she knew. But one creepy man was enough for the evening, especially considering that creepy man had spent most of the movie trying to kill his kid.

Yeah, watching the Shining had _definitely_ been a bad idea.

Mom switched on the lights, and Trixie squinted her eyes against the brightness. Scrabbling for the remote, she tried to turn the television off before Mom saw, but all she succeeded in doing was hitting pause, bringing the title of the movie right up there on the screen. She waited for her mom to say something, for the lecture about how she was only going to give herself nightmares, but she said nothing, walking silently to the entrance and hanging up her coat.

Trixie braced herself; there was no way Mom was going to miss the mess she'd made of Lucifer's jacket, not with an actual target sign hanging there. But there was no explosion, no brandishing of the material that was probably worth more than her entire allowance for the past decade. Instead, her mom merely sighed, pulling out the knife and laying it on the kitchen counter, before running her fingers over the hole left behind.

Something was wrong. Something was _very_ wrong, but Trixie had no clue what it was. She wondered if they'd spoken about Rome. Did Mom know he'd lied to her? Is that why she was upset, and he was still outside?

No, if he had lied, then she would know he wasn't Lucifer, and there's no way her mom would have brought him back here. So it had to be something else.

"Trixie?" Mom's voice was quiet, but serious. "Can you go into your room, please?"

Cautiously, Trixie got up from the sofa, still clinging to the blanket that, ten minutes ago, she was using to shield herself from the television. Part of her wanting to hide right back under it again. "Why?" she asked, not moving from the spot where she stood.

"I want to talk to you. Please, into your room. I won't ask again."

Her bottom lip trembled as she nodded, shuffling across the floor and dragging the blanket with her. In that moment, it felt like her only life raft in a sea of dread. She knew that look. She knew that tone of voice. It meant she'd done something bad, something so bad that Mom wanted to 'talk' to her about it, rather than just tell her off.

Had she found the case file? Was she upset she'd been spying on them both?

But no, that couldn't be it. Mom was fine before they went to the beach, and nobody had gone near her room after that. She even kept her window locked these days, just in case of intruders.

As she crossed the threshold to her bedroom, she heard a door open, followed by a low murmur of voices from the kitchen. Not low enough, however, as she couldn't tell what they were saying.

"I'm going to talk to her now," Mom said sadly. "I'm so sorry about this. You're sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, Chloe. You have nothing to apologise for. _Nothing_ , do you hear me?"

She peeked back out into the living area just in time to see Mom nod, her face pressed tightly against the chest of the man holding her. It made her heart hurt, to know it should be Lucifer doing this, not _him_ , whoever he was. It wasn't fair.

By the time Mom joined her, Trixie was sitting on her bed, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her knees pulled up and arms tucked around them. Just behind sat some of her last remaining stuffed toys, including Miss Alien, a little worse for wear now after several trips through the washing machine, but still a great comfort when she needed it. Like now. It wasn't a coincidence that the toy was positioned within reach, should she feel the need to hold it.

Mom slid the door closed, but she didn't move any further into the room after that. Nor did she turn the main light on, instead leaving Trixie's bedside lamp as the only source of light in the room. It wasn't as comforting as Trixie normally found it, during those times she used it to chase away bad dreams. Now, it just cast an eerie glow, painting her mom's face half in shadow.

"I want to know why you did it, Trixie." Mom shook her head, closing her eyes and leaning back against the door. "No, I want you to help me understand _why_ you did it."

"Did what, Mommy?" Trixie hated how small her voice sounded, but she was scared. This entire conversation was scaring her, and she didn't like it. Especially not with _him_ outside.

Her mom sighed, stepping forward until Trixie could see her in full, see the way her eyes were shining with unshed tears. She knelt down by the side of the bed, her face nearly level with Trixie's now. "Lucifer told me. About Rome."

Suddenly, all that fear melted away, replaced by anticipation. Her hands dropped from her knees, falling to the bed as she shuffled herself forward, her smiling growing wide. "He did? So you know he lied, right? That he's been lying?"

It was Mom's look of bewilderment that threw her. And then, it sank in. Of course that wasn't what happened. _She_ was the one in trouble, not Lucifer. The question was, why?

It wasn't long until she got her answer. "He didn't lie, Trixie. _You_ did."

She shook her head violently. "No, _no._ He's the one who's lying, Mom. He said he came with us to Rome, didn't he? But he didn't. He lied to you. He's _been_ lying to you."

Mom took her hand. "He didn't lie. Lucifer never lies. He—he thought he was telling the truth. Can't you see? Because it was a truth _you_ told him. And what I don't understand is… _why?"_

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. There were so many things she could have done. Dug out her case file, stormed out there and confronted him, begged Mom to listen to her. But she did none of those things. Instead, she remained silent, speechless.

The first teardrop rolled down Mom's cheek, and it made something uncomfortable tighten within her chest. She hadn't meant for this. She hadn't meant to be the one to hurt her.

"He couldn't even remember Rome… why we went. _What I did._ I had to tell him… _God,_ I had to break his heart all over again."

Mom didn't even really look like she was talking to her anymore, her attention focused somewhere else. Trixie didn't understand what she meant, not fully anyway. Of course, she knew _why_ they'd gone to Rome, that much was obvious from Lucifer's continued absence from their lives afterwards. And she knew something else had happened to cause that, but not what, and even Maze refused to tell her.

" _Why,_ Trixie?" her mom repeated.

Her breath caught in her throat, but she forced the words past it anyway. It was time, she couldn't keep this a secret any longer.

"Because he's not Lucifer," she whispered. It felt like a weight had lifted, to finally be able to say it out loud.

Mom slowly raised her head, disbelief written all over her face. Trixie tried not to let that discourage her. Mom would believe her, she _had_ to.

"He's not Lucifer, Mom," she said, pushing forward, gathering pace with every word. "I don't know who he is, but—"

"Stop it."

Trixie halted immediately, before trying again. "But—"

"Trixie, just stop it. S _top_."

For what felt like the longest time, neither of them said anything more. Then Mom got to her feet, and Trixie could almost feel the way she couldn't bring herself to look at her, as though her eyes were a touch she could sense the absence of.

"I'm so sorry, Monkey."

Trixie looked up in shock; those words were the last thing she expected to hear from Mom's lips right now. Did that mean… could that mean she believed her?

"I knew you were finding this hard, but I didn't realise just how much. Look… I'm not mad, okay? I promise. And, well, we won't talk about this anymore tonight. But when you get back from your Dad's this weekend..."

She paused for breath, but before Trixie could interrupt her properly to protest, she carried on.

"And you _are_ going this time, no matter what happens. Dad can look after you just as well as I can if you feel ill again. It's been three weeks since your last visit, and he misses you." Hesitantly, she reached out to stroke Trixie's hair, still not quite looking her in the eye. "But when you get home, we'll talk. Just the two of us. You can tell me everything that's bothering you, and we'll sort it out. Together."

Her hand fell back to her side, and she took a step towards the door. "But, Monkey?" she said, turning and meeting her eyes this time. "You really upset Lucifer tonight. You know how important the truth is to him." She held up a hand, sensing Trixie was about to try and argue with her again. "I think you owe him an apology, don't you?"

Just for a second, Trixie wavered. Just for a second, she wondered if her Mom was right, and she was the one who got it wrong all along. What if this _was_ Lucifer? A hurt, amnesia stricken Lucifer, who she'd tricked into breaking one of his most solemn vows?

And in that second of doubt, she nodded.

But she shouldn't have doubted at all.

The moment Mom opened the door to let him in, she could see it. That look in his eyes… that calculating darkness… that wasn't Lucifer. It could _never_ be Lucifer.

"Everything okay?" he asked, a syrupy sweetness to his voice that covered the venom beneath. Mom nodded, and he moved to stand by her side, an arm wrapped around her waist as he stared at Trixie, his eyes never wavering for a second.

"Trixie has something she wants to say to you," Mom said, looking at Trixie in a way that made it clear: _I'm expecting you to do this._ She may not be angry, but Trixie could see the disappointment there, and that hurt worst of all.

"Alright," he replied amiably. "Why don't you go and pour us some wine, my dear? I picked up a new bottle of that shiraz you like earlier; pretty sure I left it in the car though."

Mom gave a slight hum in agreement. When she moved to step away though, never-Lucifer tightened his grip. "Oh, and Chloe?"

With that, he bent down low, kissing her mom in a way Trixie had only ever seen in movies. And certainly not in a way she'd ever seen him kiss Mom before. She averted her eyes, but when she dared to look back again, what she saw made her feel sick to her stomach.

He was still staring at her. A stare that said, _I won._

Mom pulled away with a gasp, her eyes flickering to Trixie, the look on her face deeply uncomfortable. She swallowed heavily, before slipping out of his embrace and backing through the doorway, closing it behind her. Seconds later, she heard the slam of the front door as Mom headed for the car.

Trixie didn't move, glaring up at the invader in her bedroom. If he thought she was saying sorry, he had another thing coming.

But... that wasn't what he wanted at all.

"It was a nice try," he said, and Trixie froze. The rest of the world fell away, the sound of her racing heartbeat the only thing echoing in her ears.

Because that wasn't Lucifer's voice. It didn't sound like Lucifer at _all_.

He tilted his head to the side, examining her in a way that made her skin crawl. "You're quite the devious little thing, aren't you? I can see why he likes you."

Those piercing eyes continued to fix her in place. When he took a step towards her though, she scrambled backwards, her back hitting the wall, hand automatically searching for Miss Alien. Or rather, the knife hidden inside her.

"Not that Samael aligning himself with a liar is all that surprising, of course," he said, sneering. Then, his expression became thoughtful, that sneer turning into the most disturbing smile imaginable. "I wonder what secrets your mother has to hide. I wonder how I'll make her tell me."

Her response was immediate, instinctual. "You leave her alone!" she shouted, leaping to her feet, knife brandished before her as she fell into one of the many fighting stances Maze had drilled into her over the years.

And all he did was laugh.

"Devious, but not clever, I see. Do you honestly believe your tiny human weapon can hurt me, _little girl?_ I, who defeated the great evil and banished him to the pit for eternity?"

She didn't falter, trying to ignore what he was saying. Maze's words rang in her ears. _Words are weapons of weakness. A blade digs deeper, Trixie. Always remember that._

"Who _are_ you?" she demanded, another lesson come to fruition. _Know your enemy._

But she never got an answer, his head snapping towards the window suddenly. "Your mother has returned. I'd put that away, if I were you. Haven't you hurt ' _poor Lucifer'_ enough for one evening?" He raised one hand to his chest, the other running a finger down his cheek, imitating a tear as he pouted.

The door to the apartment opened, and Mom shouted inside. "Lucifer? There wasn't any wine in the car, are you sure you didn't bring it in with you?"

He grinned, amusement dancing in his eyes as he noticed the knife in Trixie's hand tremble. "Oh, I must have put it away already!" he called back, "Silly me. I'm so _forgetful_ these days." His grin morphed into a smirk at that last part, and he reached for the door handle. "Good talk," he said, with a _wink_ , of all things, before he pulled at the door, revealing Mom standing on the other side.

Quickly, Trixie hid the knife behind her back. "Everything alright, you two?" Mom asked, a small glimmer of hope in her eyes as she looked between them both.

"Just fine," definitely-not-Lucifer said, dropping a kiss to her forehead, before slinging an arm around her shoulders. "I'm afraid Trixie isn't quite ready to apologise yet, but I forgive her nonetheless." He moved his mouth closer to her ear. "Perhaps we should ask Linda to speak to her after all," he murmured, pitching his voice as though he were attempting to be quiet, but taking care to remain loud enough so that Trixie could hear him.

Mom's expression turned vacant as she stood there, lost in thought. Then she blinked, coming back to life, but the sadness that enveloped her then was so much worse.

"We'll talk about that later," she muttered back, before turning to Trixie. "It's time for bed," she said tersely, leaving no room for argument, despite the fact there was at least an hour to go before she would usually go to sleep. "Don't forget to pack for going to your Dad's tomorrow."

And that was that. They left her there, knife still clutched behind her back, tears threatening to fall the moment they both looked away. Her vision blurred as she picked up her backpack, shoving clothes into it at random, not caring what they were. When she left to go to the bathroom, Mom was now alone, standing in the kitchen with a still full wine glass in her hand, as she stared despondently out the window.

Trixie ignored her, concentrating on her mission of simply brushing her teeth and going to bed. She didn't want to be awake anymore, didn't want to deal with the hurt. When she was done, she withdrew to her room without saying goodnight. She looked forlornly at her dresser, before kneeling on the floor and removing the bottom drawer. Reaching blindly inside, she located her scrapbook, pulling it free.

Tear stinging her eyes, she thumbed through the pages, before crawling into bed, clutching it tightly against her chest. Finally, she allowed herself to cry. She'd failed. Nobody would believe her now. And it wasn't just Mom she'd let down, it was Lucifer, too.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, to nobody at all.

She had never felt more alone.

…

Breakfast was a quiet affair the next morning, Mom busy making sure she had everything for the weekend—she didn't, having completely forgotten most of it last night—and Trixie, well, she just didn't know what to say, really. She could tell Mom was still… not cross with her exactly, but definitely not fine, either.

Despite that though, when the doorbell rang, Mom still knelt down to give her a hug, as she always did before she went away for the weekend. When she let her go, she reached up to gently tuck a piece of hair behind Trixie's ear. "Remember, Monkey, I'm not angry with you. We'll get all this sorted out next week, okay?"

The doorbell rang again, and Mom gave her a gentle push. "Now, go have fun with your Dad." Trixie slung her bag over her shoulder, heading over to where her dad was waiting. "And have a good day at school!" Mom called out after her. She turned, forcing herself to smile and wave. As soon as she was outside, she let the smile disappear again.

"You okay, sweetheart?" Dad said concernedly.

She nodded. "I didn't sleep well last night, that's all."

Dad put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. "How about we have a quiet night tonight, hmm? Just you and me. I'll even let you pick the movie this time. Deal? We can always go out for burgers tomorrow instead."

Trixie smiled, and this time, it was genuine. "That sounds good," she agreed, wondering if she could convince him to let her watch Kick Ass again. Not that he knew she'd seen it the first time, but Hit Girl was her favourite, and she could do with something to distract her right now.

He gave her another squeeze. "Come on, let's get you to school."

...

One good thing about not sleeping was, it had given her time to think. She couldn't give up, that much was clear. She refused to let this man—this _monster,_ whatever he was—take over Lucifer's life. She had to find a way to stop him, before he hurt someone. Before he hurt her mom.

And so, she'd come up with a new plan. Mom wouldn't listen, so it was time to make her _see_ , instead. That morning, she didn't hide her case file again, but rather, left it right on the top of her art chest. Once she was on the way to school, she sent Mom a message, explaining that she'd left behind a school project that she needed to work on over the weekend, and asking if she could bring it to work to pass on to Dad.

It should work. It _had_ to work. She only wished she could be there when Mom saw the file for the first time. Would she believe her, with proof sitting right there in her hands? Or would it not be enough?

She honestly didn't know. But she'd done her best, and she couldn't do any more than that.

Concentrating in class that day was all but impossible. She kept wondering what Mom was doing, and whether she'd even looked at the scrapbook at all. Whenever her teacher wasn't looking she would sneakily manage to check her phone, but other than the first message from Mom saying she would get it, there were no further replies.

On top of that, every time she let her mind drift, her eyes started to close. What she said earlier wasn't a lie. She had hardly slept last night, waking up several times thanks to nightmares filled with frozen landscapes and gushing blood, and, of course, Lucifer. Or at least the thing that looked like him, chasing her through an endless maze.

And to think that at one time, she'd found the twins creepiest of all.

In that moment, time seemed to freeze.

Twins.

_Twins._

Did… did Lucifer have a twin? A brother that looked just like him?

A sudden vibration against her thigh made her jump. Careful not to look down just yet, her hand still scribbling what was now nothing more than doodles across the page as she pretended to focus on the lesson, she slipped the phone out from her pocket, fully expecting to see her Mom's name when she glanced down. But it wasn't.

It was better.

[11:55] QueenOfHell: _On my way back. Call you at lunchtime?_

The relief at seeing Maze's name was overwhelming. Trixie thrust her hand up in the air straight away, pleading that she needed the bathroom and asking for a hall pass. The urgency must have shown on her face, because despite there not being long until lunch, Miss Mariam relented. Trixie dashed from the room, and, upon seeing a lack of hall monitors, ran until she reached the restrooms, already dialling Maze's number before she even got through the door.

"Trix? You okay?"

Trixie went to speak, but she found herself holding back a sob instead. Maze was here. Maze was _coming home._ She wouldn't be alone anymore!

"Look, I've been going through your texts, and if you're still worried Lucifer's possessed, trust me, he's not. Demons can't possess angels. And anyway, if Lucifer's being weird, then it's _definitely_ Lucifer."

"It's not," Trixie finally managed to say, her voice small and low, so as not to attract the attention of any passing teachers.

"What?" Maze shouted as the reception crackled a bit, no such concerns about keeping quiet on her end.

" _It's not Lucifer, Maze."_

For one heart stopping moment, she thought the line had dropped. And then, finally, she heard Maze say, "How do you know?"

She could have explained. She could have spent the next ten minutes listing everything she had found, by which time Miss Mariam would have sent someone looking for her. But she didn't. Because she trusted her friend.

"I just do. Do you believe me?"

Maze didn't even hesitate. "Of course."

Trixie breathed a sigh of relief, but she had no time to wallow in it, forcing herself to get back to the task at hand. "Maze… does Lucifer have a brother?"

"He has a ton of— _Oh_..."

Maze trailed off into a string of Lilim so fast, it was indecipherable. Trixie waited impatiently for her to finish, trying to pick out of the words she understood, and filing some away to ask what they were another time.

And then, at long last, she was done. "Trixie, you need to stay away from him. Tell your Mom to do the same. I'm coming home as fast as I can. If he goes anywhere near either of you, you slap your hands together and pray to Amenadiel to come get you, do you hear me?"

Maze was frightening her. "Maze... " she said, trying to keep the wobble out of her voice. "Who is he?"

"He's Lucifer's twin, Trix. He's the _bliksem_ that kicked him out of Heaven."

She paused, and the world stopped spinning right along with her.

"His name is Michael."


	6. Safety in Numbers

Mom was all Trixie could think about from the second Maze hung up. Mom was in danger. Even worse, she might have put her in _more_ danger. What if she'd looked at her case file? What if, this time, she believed her, and decided to do something about it?

She could be confronting Michael right now, and it would all be her fault.

With shaking hands, she pulled up Mom's contact information and hit dial.

_Pick up… come on, pick up… please pick up… please…_

There was no answer. The line clicked on to voicemail, her mom's voice floating through the airwaves. In a situation such as this, with fear flooding through her veins and panic dominating her every thought, she should have probably found the sound comforting. Instead, a small part of her wondered if she would ever hear her voice again.

But she couldn't afford to think like that. Drawing in a deep breath, before she hit redial. Mom would pick up this time, she knew it. Sometimes, she didn't always answer the first call, not if she was in something like an interview, or on a stakeout. But she always, _always_ answered the second call. _That_ was how she knew it was an emergency.

_Hi, this is Detective Chloe Decker. I'm unable to answer the phone right now, so please leave your name and number after the beep, and I'll get back to you as soon as possible._

The memory of the time Lucifer had changed Mom's answerphone to say she was busy 'detectiving' flashed into her mind. She wished he was here. He would save Mom. He _always_ saved Mom. It was one of the reasons she couldn't understand why people like her dad hated him so much.

_Dad._

She left the toilet cubicle, her phone held firmly between her ear and shoulder, making a show of washing her hands, in case Miss Mariam sent someone to check on her. Thankfully, the phone only rang three times before Dad picked up, and she closed her eyes in relief as she turned off the tap and went to get some paper towel.

"Monkey? Is everything okay? Shouldn't you be in class right now?"

 _Play it cool_ , she told herself. _You can't put Dad at risk too._

"Everything's fine, Dad. Is Mom there?"

"What am I, her P.A.?" he replied with a chuckle. The sounds of the precinct filtered through the call, and she strained her ears, hoping to hear Mom's voice in amongst them. "She's not. I saw her earlier, but she took off with Lucifer as soon as he rolled in about an hour ago. They must be working on a case I don't know about."

They weren't. But Mom was. _Her_ case, she was sure of it. Mom had seen the file, and started her own investigation, just like Trixie hoped she would. Just like she now desperately wished she hadn't.

"Is this about your project?" Dad asked, "Because Mom said she forgot to bring it in. Hey, perhaps that's where she went, back to the apartment to grab it. If not, we'll swing by after school…"

Trixie let Dad's voice fade into the background, her mind concentrating on more important things. Mainly, locating Mom. No matter what Maze said, she couldn't leave her alone. There was no way she was letting her face Michael by herself. Maybe Dad was right, and they'd gone back to the apartment. But what if they were at the penthouse, or worse, some other place in the city she didn't even know about? How was she supposed to find them then?

"Trixie? You still there?"

_Keep breathing. Focus._

"Yes, Dad, I'm still here. I gotta get back to class. See you later!"

"Trixie, wait, what—"

She hung up. Poking her head into the corridor, she checked for any sign of teachers or hall monitors skulking about. Seeing nothing, she slipped out from the restroom, making her way down the hall as quietly as she could, ducking down under the classroom windows to avoid being spotted.

Her only goal now was to get out of here, and find Mom as quickly as possible. That meant escaping the school grounds, which was difficult enough at the best of times. No amount of lies about feeling ill or family emergencies would result in her just being allowed to walk out the door, not without being collected by someone on her approved pick up list. Yet again, she cursed Lucifer—and Maze—for not being here. They would have busted her out in a shot.

The entrance to the school was out for obvious reasons, as were all of the fire escapes; they were alarmed, and there was no way she would be able to get off the property in time if she set one off.

But there was a door from the cafeteria that led out onto the playground, and that could be just what she needed for her first step to freedom. She just had to get there. Unfortunately, it was so close to lunchtime now that she knew the room would be bustling with staff preparing for the rush. She glanced at her phone again. Five minutes. Five minutes until this place would be swarming with students. Great for cover, but it increased the odds of her being seen as she _left_ the playground exponentially.

She hovered by the cafeteria door, opening it up just enough as she could see the kitchen beyond the serving area. The instant everyone's backs were turned, she took her chance, dashing across the room and skidding to a halt behind a table. If anyone _really_ looked, they'd spot her, but the lunchtime rush was so close to starting that it proved enough of a distraction. She made her way across the hall like this in fits and starts, and in under two minutes, she was outside.

Adopting the same technique of crouching down every time she approached a window, she quickly reached the corner of the playground, where she knew the older kids would jump the wall to go smoke cigarettes around the back of the building. But she also knew that smoking wasn't the only thing that went on here, and that if you wanted to hang out with the popular kids _and_ you were brave enough, you might be invited to drink beer in the trees that lined the edges of the football pitch.

She wasn't interested in that. What she _was_ interested in, however, was the hole in the fence there that the 'cool' kids used to sneak through.

The lunch bell rang noisily into the air, and she took off immediately, all those gymnastics lessons finally paying off as she cleared the wall with ease. It didn't take long until she was at the perimeter, and a couple of out-of-breath glances back at the building gave her the firm impression that she hadn't been seen. It was only now that her fellow students were pouring out into the playground, and so far, there wasn't a teacher in sight.

Tucking her phone under her ear again, she called LUX, before starting to peel back the wire mesh that covered the hole in the fence. She figured it was best to eliminate as many possibilities as she could, so she didn't waste any time searching in the wrong places.

"Hello! You've reached LUX, LA's official den of sin and iniquity. Patrick speaking, how can I help you?"

"...Patrick?"

Trixie was lost for words for a second, struck dumb by the bartender's overly polite and unusual greeting. Unusual for LUX, anyway.

"Oh, hey little demon! Sorry about all that... new boss, you know? The main man hasn't quite taken back control of his kingdom yet."

Ah, it was Amenadiel's work. She should have known.

Speaking of the 'main man' though… "Is Lucifer there?" she asked hurriedly, ducking under the wire and wincing as part of the fence she hadn't quite pulled back far enough snagged against her back.

"'Fraid not, kid. I haven't seen him since he left to go to work this morning. Spends a lot of time 'at work' these days, doesn't he?" he said teasingly, but she didn't have time for any of that. Besides, everyone knew Mom and Lucifer were dating now anyway, didn't they?

Not that she was really dating _Lucifer_ at all, of course…

She shook herself out of it. There was no point wallowing in heartache; that could come later. No doubt Mom would feel the same way, if she could save her. No, _when_ she saved her.

"Thanks, Patrick!" she said, as cheerily as she could, before skidding and sliding down the bank on the other side of the fence, until she reached the road. Swiping away the call, she loaded up Uber, now with only one destination in mind.

She just hoped it was the right one.

…

The journey back home only took around 30 minutes, and yet to her, it felt like forever. After convincing the driver that, yes, she _did_ have permission to use the Uber account of someone calling himself the Devil, and no, that person was _not_ the person waiting for her on the other side, they took off at pace. She spent the majority of the drive with her hands pressed together tightly, eyes closed as she directed her thoughts not Heaven-ward, but as far down into the Earth below as she could imagine.

_Lucifer, can you hear me? Lucifer, Mom needs help. Lucifer?_

After what must have been her fifth attempt, she stared down uselessly at her hands. Was she not doing it right? Or was she wrong to expect a response in the first place? Maze hadn't exactly been clear. Maybe it was like a one-way thing. Maybe she would get home, and Lucifer would already be there. Even better, maybe Mom would already be safe!

One thing was for certain though, and that was that she _wasn't_ praying to Amenadiel. He would only take her away, and she couldn't let that happen. What if Maze didn't get home in time? What if Lucifer never came at all? Someone needed to be there to protect Mom.

The apartment complex came into view, and, as she planned, she directed the driver to pull up in the road behind the back of the building. As soon as the car door unlocked she jumped out, yelling her thanks and promising to leave him five stars. Once she was done kicking the ass of an angel, that is.

Even if it was one of her friends who did the actual kicking. It still counted, right?

It wasn't long until the side door of the apartment came into view, with no Lucifer in sight. But that probably made sense; if he were here, he would already be inside, wouldn't he?

She reached the window in no time at all, careful to stay hidden beneath it, rising up only enough as she could look through, hoping desperately that Mom was there.

And she was.

But so was Michael.

She could tell him apart from Lucifer on sight now, making her wonder why it hadn't been so obvious before. Today, it didn't even look like he was trying, the turtleneck underneath his jacket obviously not something that would have _ever_ been allowed in Lucifer's wardrobe.

Mom was talking to him in the kitchen, standing next to the breakfast bar. Lying on the counter by her side was a book with a distinctive red cover that filled Trixie's heart with dread. It was her scrapbook, it had to be. She would recognise it anywhere.

If only she could hear what was going on inside. Had Mom confronted him yet? Or was he already filling her head with lies again? Either way, she couldn't just burst in there, could she? Mom's hand twitched towards the case file, and the breath caught in her lungs. She needed help, and she needed it _now_.

 _One more time_ , she thought, praying, quite literally, that this time it would actually work. _Just one more time._

She fell to her knees, the irregular surface of the path below biting through her jeans. It wasn't something Maze said she _had_ to do, but that was what they did in church, wasn't it?

_Lucifer, Mom's in trouble. Please come back, she needs you!_

There was nothing. No answer, no noise of wings whooshing through the air, no sign that he'd heard her at all.

" _It was a nice try."_

Michael's voice echoed in her head, taunting her in her failure.

" _I can see why he likes you."_

He did like her, didn't he? Just like he liked, no, _loved_ her Mom. He wouldn't abandon them. Wouldn't leave them to face his brother alone. His brother, who she knew, deep down in her heart, she and her mom had no chance of defeating, not without help.

" _I, who defeated the great evil and banished him to the pit for eternity?"_

Lucifer wasn't evil though. If anyone was evil, it was Michael. Who would banish their own brother like that? Who would call them evil? Who would call them—

" _Samael."_

He didn't call him Lucifer, she realised with a gasp. What if… what if Lucifer was just a nickname, like Trixie was for her? Last year, she wasn't allowed to put her nickname on her passport; Mom said it wouldn't work in the machines if they did. What if prayer worked the same way? What if the prayer wasn't wrong, but she was just praying to the wrong _person?_

A shout from inside snapped her out of her thoughts, and she scrambled back to her feet to peer through the window again. Mom looked upset, brandishing the red scrapbook as she paced back and forth. And Michael… he just stood there, watching, until an amused smile appeared on his face. He said something, too quiet for Trixie to hear, and Mom froze, the case file in her hand falling to the floor.

There was a pause, and almost like she was watching it slow motion, she saw Mom reach for her gun. The sound of her voice exploded through the apartment, out into the back alley where Trixie stood.

" _WHO ARE YOU?"_

It was now or never. She knelt again, letting only one thought consume her mind.

" _Samael, Samael, please we need you, help me, help us, please…"_

Her eyes were screwed up so tightly, it was as though she thought she could summon the Devil by sheer force of will alone. She could feel the way her nails were cutting into the skin of her own hands, her fingers shaking from the pressure of her holding them together.

And suddenly, out of nowhere, a fierce gust of wind swept across her face, accompanied by a swooshing noise in the air. For a second, she didn't move, too scared to look, in case it was her imagination. But then, she heard a voice. And this time, it was _his_ voice.

It was real.

It was Lucifer.

"Who the bloody hell—" he started, and she opened her eyes.

Only to be met with a monster straight out of her nightmares. A red, twisted creature stood facing away from her, two giant bat wings emerging from its back that were as wide as it was tall, the skin there scarred and jagged, just like the rest of its ravaged body. She scrambled backwards away from it, but the sound of her sneaker scuffing on the gravel below gave her away, and it whirled towards her.

She looked it in the eyes.

And she saw.

"Lucifer!" she cried, pushing herself off the ground and throwing her arms around him. Well, around him as best she could; she was taller now, and his upper body wasn't quite so skinny as his legs. His skin was rough against her face, and it was weird, but not as weird as the sight of the Devil—who currently looked like something straight out of the movies—wearing tailored pants.

As always, he became rigid in her embrace, and it made her want to cry with relief. As did the feel of his clawed hand, which nervously reached out to carefully pat her on the head. "Spawn?" he said softly, if you could really describe the gravely tones of his voice in this form as 'soft'. "Is everything alright? Where is your mother?"

Terror took hold again.

"She's in there," she said, pointing inside, "and she needs help!" Lucifer took towards the door immediately, but she grabbed his hand, ignoring the way his fire filled eyes widened at her touch. After that, she started to explain at speed, but as soon as she mentioned Michael, his expression changed, that fire becoming an inferno as rage engulfed him.

He crouched down, and this being of nightmares took her by the shoulders and looked her deep in the eyes, filling her vision with the reality of what was waiting for those cast down to Hell, just like he was. But she wasn't scared. How could she be, when all she could see was her friend?

"I'll handle this," he said, his voice somehow impossibly lower, practically a growl at this point. "You need to leave, urchin, it's too dangerous for you here. The Detective would never forgive me if I let something happen to you."

She shook her head ferociously. "No! I can help!"

"You can't," Lucifer replied, his head hanging low, fists clenching by his sides. "Please... _Beatrice,_ I need to assist your mother, and I can't do that with you here. Please, promise me you'll get to safety."

He said her name. Her _name_. In a daze, she nodded, before giving him a little push. "Go save her," she demanded, despite his obvious intentions to do that anyway. He rose to his feet, towering above her. _Michael has no chance_ , she thought to herself, smiling smugly as he turned towards the door. Before he reached it though, he looked back pointedly, and she realised he was waiting for her to leave. So she did, her feet pounding against the asphalt as she tore back towards the road.

" _MICHAEL!"_

She could feel Lucifer's roar as he smashed open the door in her bones. It made her shudder, almost distracting her from her path when it was time to turn, veering from her projected course and back into the complex. Not away from the apartment, but towards it. She wasn't breaking her promise, she was getting to safety, just like he said. After all, where could be safer than somewhere you were protected by the Devil?

Racing past the doors to the other apartments, she circled around until she reached the back gate. Getting it open was easy, her small hand easily able to fit between the metal bars and open the lock on the other side. As luck would have it, when she reached the patio doors into the apartment, one was already open, the door softly swaying in the light breeze. She stuffed the hair clip she'd been about to pick the lock with back in her pocket—a skill she would swear under pain of death that Auntie Ella never taught her—and edged the door open a little more, until she could look inside.

From here, she could only see part of Lucifer as he stood by the wall of her drawings, shielded as he was by the huge black wings that now extended from Michael's back, crowding the space in between the breakfast bar and the stairs. At first, she couldn't spot Mom at all, until she caught a flash of brown-blonde hair over Michael's shoulder. That explained why Lucifer wasn't attacking.

Michael had her.

Silently, she crept inside, pulling the door closed behind her, but taking care not to shut it completely. Hidden behind the island as she was now, she couldn't see anything, but she could hear the conversation. She tried to ignore it, to concentrate on what she planned to do. But it was impossible, knowing what was happening to her mom, knowing this wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for her. What if she couldn't save Mom? What if she lost her, just like Dad lost Charlotte?

"Unhand her, Michael," Lucifer snarled, making the hairs rise on the back of her neck. Her breathing sped up, and for a moment, she panicked even more, thinking someone might hear her. Fear rose, unyielding and blinding. Not fear of Lucifer, but fear of the situation, fear for Mom, fear for herself. She bit her lip, forcing herself to contain the whimper that wanted to escape her throat.

Almost without thought, her hands came together again. She didn't pray, not this time, but she repeated the same motion as before, her fingers knitting together, the tips turning white as they pressed into her hands. The pain grounded her, making the world come into focus again. And more importantly, it allowed her to spot the polka dot covered box she'd come here for on the shelving unit opposite.

_Bingo._

"Oh, I don't think so, _Sammy_. This one is quite precious to you, is it not? Your human… or is it your Queen now? I know _I've_ certainly been treating her like a queen these past few weeks."

The walls shook slightly at the growl that left Lucifer's throat, the rumbling drone reminding her of an earthquake. It was a growl that only grew louder when her mom tried to say Lucifer's name, only to be cut off by whatever Michael was doing to her, her voice trailing off with a gasp.

"You'd think it would be more grateful," he spat. "It did get to bed the better brother, after all."

Mom tried to speak again, but her voice was muffled, indecipherable. And then, Trixie couldn't hear her at all.

Not over the sound of uncontrollable laughter.

"Decker? _Seriously?_ Even Satan here couldn't get in her pants, and you're expecting us to believe that _you_ , patron saint of blushing school boys and fumbling virgins, got the deed done in 3 weeks?!"

Maze cracked up again, and just from hearing that, Trixie felt her breathing and heart rate finally even out, a grin spreading over her face. _Maze was back!_

And she wasn't done, either. "You wouldn't know the right end of a human from the wrong one if it slapped you in the face. Which I recommend, by the way."

The sound of wings could be heard once more, and then the deep voice of Amenadiel joined the others. "What are you _doing_ , brother?"

"What does it bloody look like he's doing, Amenadiel? He's…"

Trixie tuned out the sound of Lucifer's voice, of all their voices, the return of her friends filling her with a new found confidence. Michael still had Mom; the danger wasn't over yet. But she knew _exactly_ how she could help.

Everyone was so busy yelling at each other that nobody noticed when she darted across the room, grabbing the box from the shelving unit she'd spied earlier, and falling to her hands and knees behind the dining room table. She was more exposed here, but it didn't matter. Nobody was focused on anything going on outside of the five people standing in the middle of the room.

Opening up the box, she emptied its contents one by one onto the floor at speed. Certificates, ribbons… this was the place they stored mementoes of all her achievements. And right there, at the bottom, was her biggest achievement of all.

One of Maze's demon blades.

"For emergencies," she said, the day she handed it to Trixie, a little over six months ago now. "You've earned it. Lucifer isn't here to protect your mom anymore, so we have to, okay?"

That was the day she made a vow she wasn't about to break. The weight of the karambit felt familiar in her fingers; she had her own version that she practised with, but that was made here on Earth, a present from Lucifer for her birthday, designed to fit her smaller hands. This though, this was different. Hell forged steel, deadly to humans and angels alike.

" _Do you honestly believe your tiny human weapon can hurt me, little girl?"_

Michael was right. Her 'tiny human weapon' couldn't have hurt him.

But this would.

Weapon held tightly in one fist, she allowed herself a moment to take in the scene. Lifting her eyes just above the table, she catalogued the room. Maze was leaning against the sofa, her knives in hand, what remained of the side door scattered to the floor beside her feet. Amenadiel stood guard at the front, his wings tucked tightly behind him in the narrow entrance way, uncomfortably wedged between the kitchen cabinets and the wall, leaving only the back open for Michael's escape. Not that he appeared to be going anywhere fast.

Her view of Lucifer was mainly still blocked by wings that were black as night, the complete opposite to Lucifer's old wings, but from what little she could see of his face, he was completely focused on her mom, his eyes never leaving her for a second. She wondered if Michael could see the same fear there that she could, hidden behind the fire and anger, fear that he had come back to Mom only to lose her again.

Trixie wasn't going to let that happen. It was Michael she focused her attention on while the celestials continued to argue; the conversation veering wildly between Lucifer demanding that Michael let Mom go, to Maze threatening him with what would happen if he didn't. The only person reasoning with her mom's captor was Amenadiel, and even Trixie knew _that_ wasn't going to work.

She examined the angel in front of her carefully. There was a decision to make here, one of the outcomes of which, she wasn't sure she was ready for. _Always go for the kill_. It was one of the first lessons Maze taught her. But slicing up mannequins was a whole different ball game to actually _killing_ someone. Besides, just because she knew the location of every vital organ in the human body, it didn't mean that angels were the same. The second part of that lesson though? _That,_ she could do.

_And if you can't kill them, go for the weak spots._

Michael's weak spot was obvious. It was there in the way he leaned slightly while standing, something Maze had noticed just from a photograph, but with his wings out, it was even clearer. His right wing… there was something wrong with it. The top looked all funny, almost as if it had been broken once but never fixed right. There was a spot, just underneath the bone, where she could see tendons twitching futilely, straining to hold up a wing far heavier than the withered muscles there could manage. It left him hunched over to one side, the arch of his wing twisted beyond repair.

She wondered if he could fly properly, with his wing damaged like that.

She decided she didn't care.

 _That_ was a weak spot she could work with.

The sound of Lucifer's voice rose, a clear sign that he was growing impatient. Ducking down back underneath the table, she saw him take a step forward, and from here, she could see Mom's feet too, struggling fruitlessly against the man holding her in his arms.

"Ah, ah, ah, Sammy, I wouldn't come any closer if I were you. If I've learned one thing about humans during my visit, it's that their necks are oh-so fragile. You wouldn't want there to be an accident now, would you?"

Trixie steeled herself. If she was going to do something, it _had_ to be now. Michael was getting closer to the edge; she couldn't risk waiting any longer. She closed her eyes, taking several long, deep breaths, centering herself as Maze had taught her, until the only thing she could hear was the sound of her own heartbeat in his ears. Despite its size, the blade felt right in her hand, her fingers curling around the handle, adjusting for balance. One last look over the table was all it took to fix the angel's position in her mind.

She could do this. She had trained for this. She was _born_ for this.

She stood.

In one fluid movement the knife left her hand, spinning through the air as it flew towards its target. She could have turned away then, already knowing she had succeeded, no doubt in her mind whatsoever that the blade would find its mark. The way Lucifer's mouth dropped open at the sight of her barely registered; nor did Maze's shout of her name. It was inconsequential; all that mattered was the path of her knife, the sight of _her_ weapon sinking into the flesh of the man trying to hurt her family.

And when it struck, it struck deep.

And he _screamed._

It all happened so fast, after that. She heard, rather than saw Mom fall to the ground, Lucifer's face falling from view as he dived to catch her. Michael whirled around, looking nothing at all like Lucifer now, as he stared at her with savage eyes, full of unbridled fury.

" _YOU!"_ he bellowed, one wing arching high above him, while the other spasmed uselessly against the floor, unable to match its twin.

"You _dare_ attack me from behind?" he spat, covering the space between them in three long strides, throwing the dining table across the room like it was nothing. "What kind of creature are you? Have you no _honour?!"_

She tried to be brave, tried to stare him down as she had done before, but she couldn't help the way her eyes widened with fear, instinctively backing away from him until she had nowhere to go. There were no more weapons, no possible chance of escape, and in that moment, it felt like the only thing that existed was the terrifying monster in front of her.

But in her terror, she had forgotten.

She wasn't alone. She would _never_ be alone.

There was a flash of movement from her right, so fast it was nothing but a blur. In an instant, Maze was there, one hand taking hold of the blade handle as she leapt onto his back, driving it even further into his wing, the other holding another knife against the curve of his neck.

"Demons don't need _honour_ ," she snarled into his ear. She looked at Trixie proudly. "And this kid's a _demon_."

She twisted the knife again, her eyes still fixed on Trixie, and that was where she went wrong. Michael roared, and the look on his face was no longer calculating, no longer painted with dark intelligence.

No, it was _feral_.

Uncaring about the blade pressed against his skin, he reached behind him with one hand, taking hold of one of the many leather straps that covered Maze's body and _throwing_ her over his shoulder. Her body smashed through the window behind where Trixie stood, and she dived to the floor, hands covering her head as she shielded herself from the glass that rained down.

"Maze!" she cried out, but there was nothing she could do.

Unseating Maze had ripped out the knife from his wing in the process, a wing Michael now clutched with one hand as he advanced again. Blood dripped from his neck where the demon blade had cut him, but not enough. _Not enough._

" _MICHAEL!"_ Lucifer's voice thundered through the apartment, but his twin didn't falter, didn't turn to face him. Trixie wasn't even sure he had heard him, enraged as he was. But even as she whimpered, even as her body shook uncontrollably and she pressed herself into the corner of the wall as far as she could go, shards of glass cutting into her hands, she knew. She knew the Devil would save her.

Except, that wasn't what happened.

Instead, it was even better.

"Get the _HELL_ away from my daughter!"

It was more of a scream than a shout, but the sound of her mom's voice filled her with the kind of hope that nothing else ever could. Six shots rang out, Michael's body jerking with each one, a look of complete and utter confusion crossing his face as he fell forward, crashing into what remained of the dining set.

Trixie stared at him, trying to remember how to breathe. Dimly, she heard Lucifer say, " _Well done, Detective!"_ , and then Mom was calling her name. She barely registered her rushing towards her, gathering her up in her arms.

"Trixie? Oh my god, Trixie, are you okay?" As quickly as the hug had come, it was gone, mom letting her go as she frantically checked her over for injuries. She sobbed when she saw Trixie's hands, pulling her to her once more. "Monkey, I'm sorry. I'm so, _so_ sorry."

"Brother, quickly."

Trixie's head perked up at Lucifer's words, and she watched over her mom's shoulder as Amenadiel hooked arms under Michael's, dragging him across the floor to the kitchen. He hauled him up to his feet, nodding to Lucifer. "Ready?"

Lucifer gave him a single nod in return.

And then, to Trixie's horror, Michael woke up.

He came back to life gasping and desperate, but the moment he gained awareness, he began to struggle, his wings thrashing against Amenadiel's grip. Lucifer grinned, a frightful sight given his current appearance, before punching his twin, punching what was essentially his own _face_ , with such force that Trixie could have sworn she heard his jaw break.

It was the wrong thing to do. The blow struck so fiercely that Amenadiel stumbled back from it as well, and it was just enough to allow Michael to tear himself free. Lucifer instantly attacked, driving Michael backwards, a devastating kick blasting him through the patio doors, smashing into the wall beyond. Amenadiel righted himself, and the pair advanced on their brother, together, as a team.

"Sweetheart?" Mom tucked a finger under her chin, bringing her face up to meet her eyes. "Are you alright?" The fight continued in the background, and every bone in her body wanted to go and help. But she was done, she could feel it. Her body ached, but her Mom was safe, and that was all that mattered.

So instead, she nodded. "Are you?" she asked, before inhaling sharply. "And what about _Maze?"_

A moan came from behind them, along with a rather sarcastic grumble about how it was, " _Nice to be remembered."_ A hand grabbed onto the window frame, paying no mind to the jagged glass edge that still remained there. Moments later, Maze half climbed, half rolled through the window, landing roughly on the floor beside them.

" _Yep, that'll do your injuries some good,"_ she heard Mom mutter under her breath.

With the exception of one hand that remained intertwined with Mom's, Trixie pulled away, moving closer to Maze and gingerly touching what looked to be a dislocated shoulder. "Hey, kid," Maze said, lifting one eye open to look at her. "You did good out there."

"I did, didn't I?" Trixie replied, an excited smile slowly growing on her face as she looked at her friend. Then, she frowned, thinking back over their conversation just over an hour ago. "Hey, how'd you get here so fast?"

"Your Mom sent Amenadiel to come get me," Maze replied, both eyes open now as she eyed her ruined outfit with disgust.

Trixie felt Mom poke her in the side. "What, you think I'm stupid enough to go without backup?" she teased, and Trixie giggled, shaking her head. It was a moment of peace in the madness, and, for a few precious moments, it felt like the danger had passed.

And then the moment was broken. A loud shout from outside made her jump, and she looked fearfully towards the remaining windows, expecting someone, or something, to break through at any second.

"I have to get you both out of here," Mom said, looking first at Trixie, and then to Maze, as if trying to weigh up if she could walk.

The demon pulled herself up a little against the wall, bringing her blades to rest on her lap, one still clutched in each hand. "You go," she said, "I'll stay. These idiots might need help."

Mom shook her head. "You're in no state to—"

But it was too late. Amenadiel came crashing back into the kitchen, his body ramming into the kitchen island, which half collapsed to the floor underneath him, sending pots and pans flying everywhere. He groaned, dragging himself to his feet again, his grey wings flapping a little to counterbalance. Seconds later, Michael staggered in backwards after him, dodging blow after blow from Lucifer, or at least trying to, and failing miserably. Both were tired, Trixie could tell, but Michael was the weaker of the two, injured as he was.

Which is why, when Amenadiel grabbed his wings, this time Michael couldn't break free. Lucifer stalked towards him, the grin he sported wicked and victorious. He grabbed his brother by the chin, forcing him to stare into the inferno that was his eyes.

"You tried to take my life," he said through gritted teeth, his clawed fingers digging into Michael's skin. "You _touched_ the Detective. _My_ Detective." He drew back, watching as his twin struggled against Amenadiel's embrace once more.

"And for that, _brother,"_ he snapped, "you can go to _hell."_

He lunged forward, headbutting Michael viciously in the face. The resounding crack echoed into the room, making Mom flinch and gasp. As his brother's head lolled forward, Lucifer turned towards the sound. He caught Mom's eye, and there was shame written all over his face. Shame... and sorrow.

" _Chloe."_

Her mom's name fell from his lips with such longing, even as, at the same time, he spread his wings wide. Mom let go of her hand, stumbling to her feet.

"No, Lucifer, wait—" she stuttered, but Lucifer's wings were already beating down, enveloping Michael completely.

And then... they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... you might have noticed, but this is no longer the last chapter! All that fighting took a little longer than I expected. Unfortunately, this does mean I won't be able to finish before Friday. I'd have to write, edit and get it betaed in one day, and that's pretty much impossible for me. So I should see you at the weekend, or on Monday at the latest.


	7. Nothing to Prove

"No…" she heard Mom whisper, as she staggered over to where Lucifer was standing just seconds before. "No, no, no… he can't leave again. He can't _leave_." She collapsed to the floor, her hand resting against what was left of the island. "We didn't even get a chance to talk… I wanted to explain…"

Trixie got to her feet, walked over to her mom and wrapped her arms around her from behind. "I'm sorry, mommy." Tears welled up in her eyes, to match the ones pouring from her mom's face. "I should have made him promise to stay…"

"You know why he had to go back," Maze said, grunting as she pulled herself up from the floor. Her right arm hung loosely at her side, her shoulder oddly sloped. "And after all this"—she gestured with her good arm at the devastation around the apartment—"it's only going to make him more determined to protect you."

"I don't need protecting," Mom choked out, shaking her head as she closed her eyes. "I need _him_."

Maze limped across the floor, barely sparing them a glance as she journeyed towards the breakfast bar. "No, you _don't,"_ she said, shooting daggers at her currently useless arm before reaching up to the kitchen cabinets with the other. She began to root around on the top most shelf, sending a glass tumbling. "It's been six months. You survived without him before, you'll do it again. Nothing's changed." At Mom's silence, she rolled her eyes and added, "You're still a great mom and a kick-ass detective… with shockingly bad taste in men, that's all. And I'm including Lucifer in that."

Mom laughed, just a little, and Trixie hugged her even harder. "I'm not so sure about the great mom part," she sniffled, looking down at her.

"Come back to me when you abandon her in Hell, and we'll talk," Maze said bitterly, as more dinnerware crashed to the floor. " _Gotcha,"_ she muttered under her breath, pulling down a bottle of vodka. Removing the cap with her teeth, she downed about a quarter of the bottle before smacking it back down on the counter with a satisfied sigh, wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand.

One final plate that had been teetering on the edge of the shelf finally fell, narrowly missing Maze on the way down. Despite it smashing to smithereens when it joined the pile already on the floor, the demon stomped on it anyway, just for good measure. Mom stopped sniffling for a moment to glare at her pointedly. "What?" Maze said, raising an eyebrow. "It's not like I'm making it _worse_."

Mom sighed, and shook her head. Then she turned to Trixie, brushing her fingers through her hair, trying to rid it of some of the broken glass there. If she felt any pain as it caught on her fingers, she didn't show it. "You're sure you're okay, Monkey?" she said, looking concerned. "Today must have been pretty scary."

It was, but Trixie wasn't going to admit that. There was one thing she needed to say though, something that had been on the tip of her tongue since Maze's phone call. "This is all my fault," she confessed, dropping her eyes down to the floor below. "If I hadn't left you my scrapbook…"

"Hey," Mom said, lifting her chin and forcing her to look at her. "You listen to me, okay? This is not your fault. This is _Michael's_ fault. And mine, for not listening to you." Mom pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then pulled her closer. "You have been so smart, and so brave, and I am so, _so_ proud of you, do you hear me?"

It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. "Okay," she said, nodding decisively, a small smile upon her lips. "But it's not your fault either, Mom. You just… you just wanted it to be Lucifer, that's all."

Her mom smiled sadly. "That's right," she said, sweeping a stray strand of hair back from Trixie's face and smoothing it back into place. She tilted her head to one side, like she always did when she was puzzling something out. "You brought him here, didn't you?"

Trixie grinned as she realised something. "That's it! Did you know you can pray to him, Mom? It's so cool! I'll just tell him to come back and—"

"Trix," Maze interrupted, putting down what was now a nearly empty vodka bottle. "It won't work. Once Lucifer gets an idea in his head… I've only known one person who has ever been able to change his mind, and… well, she knows what's at stake here."

Mom nodded shakily, her grip on Trixie briefly increasing. "You mustn't ask him to come back, Monkey," she said regretfully. "He can't, and it will only make him feel bad."

Trixie stayed silent, blinking back the tears as she tried to think of a way. "But—"

Her mom's thumb gently traced her cheek, wiping away the wetness there. "I know, sweetheart, I know. I want him to come home too, more than anything."

"Same here."

Trixie had never felt more connected to her mom in her life than when both of them turned their heads at the exact same time to confirm that, yes, those words _had_ just come out of Maze's mouth.

"What?" the demon said, stretching to run her hand along the top shelf once more, and scowling when she came up empty. "I still owe him an ass kicking for leaving me behind in the first place. You got any more booze anywhere, Decker? This hurts like a—"

An all too familiar noise came from outside, cutting off whatever Maze was about to say. Trixie felt the hope that sound brought to her mom's face mirrored on her own. But when they looked towards the source, much to her disappointment, it was Amenadiel they saw, navigating his way inside through the pile of rubble that had once been their back patio.

"Michael has been secured in Hell," he proclaimed, puffing his chest out slightly, as though he was somehow single handedly responsible for that. "Lucifer has stationed his best demons to watch over him."

_Thud._

The sound of a blade being driven into the breakfast bar made everyone in the room leap out of their skin. Amenadiel shifted awkwardly, his warrior-like stance quickly deflating. He swallowed nervously, then cleared his throat. "All his best demons _currently_ in Hell, that is."

Slowly, her eyes still narrowed, Maze withdrew her hand from the knife.

"What about Lucifer?" Trixie said, pushing herself to her feet and staring up at Amenadiel. "When is he coming back?"

She didn't care what Mom and Maze said. Lucifer wouldn't just leave again, not without saying goodbye. He _wouldn't_.

Amenadiel frowned slightly, casting an almost desperate look towards Chloe. "Monkey…" Mom started, but Trixie shook her head. Lucifer's brother had been in Hell with him. He was the only one who would know for sure.

The angel dropped to one knee, putting himself more on her level. "Lucifer, he—"

A rush of air from behind blew her hair into her face, and without even looking, she knew immediately who it was.

"Is sorry he's late," the Devil continued, and she was already spinning on her heel and running towards him before he even finished speaking. As usual, he hardly moved when she made impact, the only sign that he felt anything at all a quiet ' _oof'_ escaping his lips.

"I knew you'd come home," she whispered, and for a moment, she felt his hand tentatively rest on her shoulder, the rough uneven surface coarse against the side of her neck. But she didn't care. It was Lucifer, and he'd come back for them.

There was a noise, and then Mom was there, one arm around Trixie, the other around Lucifer as she pressed her forehead against his. Neither of them spoke, but Lucifer's wings came to wrap around them both, cocooning them in warmth, in their own private little world.

It wasn't long until a voice broke through that peace though. "Urgh," Maze said, "get a room, would you?"

All three of them looked at her at the same time, promptly followed by them starting to talk over one other. "Sounds like a plan," Lucifer started, his wings withdrawing, "you look after the child, Mazikeen, and I'll—"

"Seriously, Maze? That's hardly appropriate, and can't you see we're having a mo—" her mom continued, freeing herself from Lucifer enough as she could scowl at her.

"Just for a hug?" Trixie asked, confused as to why anyone would need to 'get a room' for that. They were already _in_ a room. Did she mean they should go into another room? But Maze hugged her all the time, and they never went into a different room to do it.

She saw that both Lucifer and Maze were opening their mouths to answer, but Mom held up a finger before they could say anything. "No. Just no."

Maze slipped down from the barstool she was perched on, wincing slightly when her feet hit the floor. "Are you quite alright, Mazikeen?" Lucifer asked, his head turning slightly to the side in order to ask the question in Maze's direction, but unable to tear his eyes away from Mom for a second.

"Oh yeah, I'm _fine_ ," Maze said, sickly sweet. "You know, other than…"

This time, when she slipped into a deluge of Lilim, Trixie understood almost every word, a wide smile growing on her face at the verbal battering Lucifer was receiving for leaving Maze behind.

When she finished, Trixie felt Lucifer bristle, but Mom beat him to the punch when it came to responding. "What the _hell_ was that?" she asked, looking between the pair.

Excited to show her off language skills in front of Lucifer, and completely forgetting for a moment that Mom wasn't supposed to _know_ she spoke Lilim, Trixie sprang into action. "Oh! She—"

"Was just welcoming me back, darling," Lucifer said hastily, his eyes widening a little as he gave the tiniest shake of his head at her while Mom's back was turned.

Trixie rolled her eyes in response. It wasn't a lie, although it couldn't exactly be considered a warm welcome either. Perhaps it was for the best though, Mom not knowing. The last thing she needed was for her to start up some kind of Lilim swear jar.

Mom narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but despite that, she remained locked in Lucifer's embrace. The way Lucifer looked at her… it didn't matter how monstrous he appeared, this was a monster who loved her mom more than anything. Who would do anything to save her, including going back to a place that he hated.

Amenadiel came closer, placing a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "Brother," he said, "I shall return to Hell for a while, and guard the gates. You should enjoy this moment."

 _While it lasts,_ Trixie thought. Amenadiel didn't say it, but the implication was clear. Lucifer wasn't staying. His brother knew it, and Lucifer knew it too. Even Maze and Mom had warned her. But she didn't want him to go. He didn't deserve to be down there, all alone.

"I'll come with," Maze chimed in, sweeping up her knives from the counter and using her functioning arm to sheath them one by one.

Mom shook her head a little, blinking rapidly. Trixie could see that her eyes were still wet. "Your arm, Maze. You can't go to Hell like that."

"What, this?" Maze said, shaking the dangling limb. "Easy fix. What did you think the vodka was for?"

Before anyone could stop her, she pulled the arm straight out in front of her and yanked. A sickening crunch filled the room, followed by a pop. Mom looked slightly sick, but all Trixie could do was grin at the way Maze didn't even flinch. She was so _awesome._

But… if she didn't want Lucifer to go to Hell, then she didn't want her best friend to go even more. What if she decided she liked being home and didn't want to come back again? Maze must have noticed the look on her face however, because she beckoned Trixie over with a jerk of her head. Trixie jumped up onto the stool Maze had just vacated, already preparing to put on the biggest puppy dog eyes she could, and beg her to stay.

The demon was wise to her tricks though, much more so than Mom, Dad, and especially Lucifer, ever were. "I gotta go, Trix," she said, placing her hand on Trixie's shoulder and squeezing. "Someone's gotta make sure Michael's punished for what he did to you and your mom. Can't risk leaving it to the amateurs." Maze eyeballed Lucifer, who took more than a few moments to realise what she was getting at. He raised an eyebrow, or what Trixie imagined would have been an eyebrow, if he had any in this state.

"I think you'll find, Mazikeen, that I am perfectly capable of—"

"Did you find out what Michael's plan actually was?" Maze asked, butting in without a care. When Lucifer didn't answer, she carried on. "Did _either_ of you even ask? Because I doubt he was here just to take a walk about in your Louboutins." The brothers looked at each other, shifting awkwardly, and Maze snorted. "See? Amateurs."

"I would have gotten around to it," Lucifer grumbled, and Mom patted his wing comfortingly.

"It's settled then. I'll take a little vacation back home, and spend some _quality_ time with your brother while I'm there. You stay here and… snuggle, or whatever lame thing it is that you're planning on doing."

Lucifer eyed her with thinly veiled concern. "You'll need to watch out for him, Maze. He's a tricky ba"—Mom elbowed him in the side—"aaad man, when he wants to be. Which is pretty much always."

"I'll keep an eye on her," Amenadiel promised, "And the gates as well."

"Gate," Lucifer corrected. "Just the north gate, brother. The rest are… taken care of." He looked at Amenadiel in a way that Trixie didn't quite understand, and at first, the angel looked much the same. Then his expression changed to one of dawning realisation. "Luci, that's…"

"I know," Lucifer said, glancing down at Mom. "But I'll explain more later. Nothing is certain, not yet."

Amenadiel nodded solemnly, turning to Maze and opening his arms. She huffed dramatically, as if the whole trip were nothing but an inconvenience, then gave Trixie a quick hug before walking over to him, her limp noticeably better already. He rolled his shoulders, those massive grey wings of his emerging from his back. One day she was going to have to ask Lucifer how exactly they fit in there.

If she ever got the chance to, that is.

Just as Amenadiel was about to scoop Maze up though, he stopped. "And Luci?" he said, making the Devil groan frustratedly, forced to divert his attention away from Mom yet again.

"What is it, brother?" he snapped, but as Mom stroked his wing, he seemed to soften, relaxing into her touch.

"I'm sorry. For not realising it wasn't you. I should have."

"Yes, you're bloody well right, you should have. All these millennia you've known me, Amenadiel..." Lucifer shook his head in disgust, his wings twitching a little.

"...and you thought I would wear a _turtleneck_? With a _suit jacket?_ What kind of heathen do you take me for?"

Trixie giggled, thinking of the fashion section in her case file. Amenadiel though, he just shook his head, giving Lucifer a fond smile as he chuckled softly. "I'll see you soon, brother. Chloe. Trixie."

One blink later, and he and Maze had vanished, leaving just the three of them alone.

There were just a few seconds of silence, before Mom looked up at Lucifer with a wry smile. "I'm not an idiot, you know," she said, swatting him on the chest lightly, too much affection in her voice for her to actually be telling him off. "I do know Maze wasn't ' _welcoming you back'_."

Lucifer used the hand that wasn't currently holding Mom to rub his chest dramatically. "She was," he insisted, acting offended. "It was just…" he shrugged, the movement echoed in his wings, "a demonic welcome. Threats of violence, promises of vengeance… all pretty standard stuff, really."

Mom laughed, and in that moment, she looked truly, completely happy. "Besides," Lucifer continued, "I am well aware, Detective, that while you are many things to me, an idiot could never be one of them." He lifted a clawed finger, moving to tuck a loose strand of hair back behind Mom's ear. When he saw his hand though, he froze. "My apologies, I forgot—I… I'm so used to being like this... Here, let me—"

"Lucifer," her mom whispered, bringing her hands up to cup his face. "I don't care."

And with that, she kissed him.

Trixie wanted to turn her eyes away, she really did. But there was something about seeing her mom kiss the Devil that was just… she couldn't explain it. From the shock on his face, to the way he melted around her just moments later, his wings folding inwards to envelope Mom completely, tugging her even harder against him. And then, to her amazement, his scars started to disappear, the reddened skin fading to pale white. His wings retracted, leaving him bare chested and breathless, until it was just Lucifer and Mom standing there, smiling dopily at each other.

She knew then, why she couldn't look away. It was like watching Beauty and the Beast come to life, only without all the fireworks and the floating. _Although Lucifer probably could float if he wanted to_ , she mused. The cool thing was, if this was like a Disney movie, that made Mom a princess, didn't it? Although… Lucifer always said he was the _King_ of Hell, so, did that make Michael right? Was Mom Lucifer's queen now?

And if she was… did that make her a _princess?!_

" _Chloe…"_ She heard Lucifer breathe softly, and this seemed like the perfect time to remind them that she was, in fact, still in the room. Hopping down from her stool, she deliberately kicked it backwards after she landed, sending it scraping across the floor. Both adults jumped at the sudden sound, and Mom flushed, suddenly looking very guilty.

"Monkey!" she said, with a nervous looking smile. "Would you mind, um, getting Lucifer something to wear, please? Her fingers trailed absentmindedly down the bare skin of Lucifer's chest as she spoke. Lucifer smirked, covering Mom's hand with his own and stopping her before she reached his stomach. Mom gazed up at him, the blush on her face growing even more.

With a roll of her eyes, Trixie headed towards the stairs, but not before stopping in front of Lucifer and examining him for a moment. He straightened, unable to stop himself preening, no matter the situation. "Dad has more muscles," she declared with a shrug, before taking off upstairs at pace, laughing to herself as Lucifer spluttered.

Knowing exactly what her mom wanted her to get, she ducked into the master room and grabbed it from her nightwear draw. She journeyed back downstairs with caution though, not wanting to walk in on them kissing again. But instead, as she drew nearer, all she could hear was them bickering.

She should have known, really.

"...And you never thought, not even _once,_ to mention the fact you have an _identical twin brother?"_

"It didn't seem like pertinent information, Detective. Besides, the opportunity never really arose."

"The opportunity never—Lucifer, we had a _case_ that involved identical twins. You make _every_ single case about you. How on earth could it not come up?"

Trixie winced, taking the rest of the stairs slowly. Mom and Lucifer had moved into the living room now, one of the few places in the apartment untouched by the fighting. Mom was pacing in front of the fireplace in that way she did when she was trying not to get too upset, while Lucifer sat back on the sofa, watching her intently.

Worriedly, she cast a glance towards the kitchen. This was turning out to be more like Tangled than Beauty and the Beast. Perhaps she should hide the frying pans?

"I don't particularly enjoy talking about my brother, Detective."

"Well—"

Mom saw Trixie approach and stopped in her tracks, giving her a grateful smile when she saw the clothing clutched in her hands. Trixie didn't hand it over though, not yet. "Mom, maybe it's like Sarah," she said, seeing Lucifer's brow rise in interest.

Sarah was her best friend once, back when she was seven. When the bullying started at school, the girls that were picking on her told her friend to push her over, or they'd hurt her, too. She did. Trixie understood why, but it was something she never really got over, and she refused to talk about her again after that. This was the first time she'd said her name in years.

She saw a spark of understanding in her mom's eyes. "Perhaps, you're right, sweetheart," she replied, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Who is this Sarah?" Lucifer asked, sitting up a little straighter, eternally curious. And nosey.

"It doesn't matter," Mom said, coming to sit down beside him, angling her body towards his and taking his hands in hers. "Lucifer, I am so sorry for Michael. I knew something was wrong… but I was just so happy to have you back. I kept forcing myself to ignore the signs, and I shouldn't have."

Trixie flopped down onto the other sofa, watching as Lucifer removed one of his hands to cup Mom's face. "You have nothing to apologise for, Detective. As I said, Michael is tricky. Who knows how long he has been watching us for, preparing for this. And besides, I imagine in your position, I would have done much the same." He paused, swallowing heavily. "I missed you."

Mom's hands twitched, as though she longed to pull him into her arms. But she held off, asking, "Michael said it had been thousands of years for you. Is that true?"

Lucifer gave the smallest of nods, his eyes suddenly glistening. It was then that Mom gave in, pulling him forward and throwing herself around him. For a second, Trixie wondered if she should join in—after all, she'd missed him too—but it felt like this moment was something that should just be between the two of them.

"I missed you too," Mom said, her voice cracking, sounding as if she was on the edge of tears again. For his part, Lucifer had hidden his face away into the side of her neck. Mom looked at Trixie, beckoning her over. "We both did."

Trixie rose from the sofa, but didn't join in with the hug itself, feeling a little out of place. Instead, she thrust out her hand, presenting the now quite crumpled shirt to Lucifer. "I bought you this," she announced loudly, waiting for him to take it. When he lifted his head, his eyes were rimmed with red.

"Thank you, urchin," he said shakily, trying to hide a sniffle. He focused his attention on Mom again. "Although I'm amazed you have clothing on hand to fit me. Maze hardly seems to be the type to have kept mementos of overnight guests." He chuckled, a chuckle that was cut off abruptly as his face tensed, his jaw twitching as his amusement became replaced with resembling dread.

Mom noticed it too. "It's not Michael's," she reassured him. "I know what he said, but we didn't have any"—her eyes flickered to Trixie—"sleepovers." Lucifer opened his mouth, but Mom got there first, cutting him off. "And before you say anything, it's not Pierce's, either."

"The Douche's then?" he asked, his lip curling. "Well, I'm not entirely sure I'll ever get over having to wear off the rack, but needs must, I suppose…" He finally took the shirt, his eyebrows narrowing as he touched the material. "My, my," he said, slipping it on. "Apparently I need to upgrade my opinion of Daniel's sense of style. The thread count in this is more than acceptable." He ran his fingers down the lapel of the shirt, before beginning to do it up. "In fact…"

The shirt fell open again as he stopped fumbling with the buttons. "Detective," he said, his head rising sharply from his task, "is this _my_ shirt?"

Mom nodded shyly, and Trixie leapt into action. "She wears one every night to go to sleep!" she informed him excitedly. "You should see how many she has in her drawer upstairs."

"Trixie..." her mom groaned, burying her head in his hands.

Lucifer smirked at the sight. "Does she now?" he said, seeming absolutely delighted with the idea. "I'd very much like to see that, spawn. Your mother has yet to let me anywhere near her bedroom, you know."

"Emphasis on the _let,"_ Mom grumbled between her fingers. "Don't think I never noticed the state my drawers were left in every time you watched Trixie."

"Well if you actually hid something exciting in there for me to find, I wouldn't have to keep searching, would I?" he fired back, an excellent piece of logic if ever she'd heard one. After all, it wasn't like she kept searching for Christmas presents after she'd already found them.

He finished buttoning up the shirt, and finally, he looked normal again. It was like this could just be any other day, where he would come to visit, and they would play games, or watch TV, or make dinner together. But it wasn't, was it? Because he was going to leave them again.

"How long until you go back?" she asked quietly, feeling guilty when she saw her mom flinch.

Lucifer placed his hand in hers again, and then turned to Trixie. As always, he answered her honestly. "Not long. My brother isn't capable of running things down there for any length of time, nor do I expect him to. He has… responsibilities now." She knew he was thinking of Charlie. But weren't they _his_ responsibilities too? Hadn't today shown that he needed to be here, to protect them?

Either he read her mind, or something must have shown on her face. He reached out with his free hand, and she felt him take her smaller one within his own, squeezing softly. "You and your mother… you don't need me here." Mom started to object, but he shook his head, smiling. "You don't. My brave Detective," he said, raising her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss against her fingers, "you are just as strong as you ever were, even before I had the honour of being by your side."

He turned back to Trixie next, and for a moment she wondered if he might kiss her fingers too. Which… that was kind of yuck. But... maybe, now that she was practically a princess, that would happen all the time? If so, she supposed she better get used to it. Much to her disappointment-slash-relief though, he didn't, merely jostling her arm a little bit. "And you," he said, something a little like pride sparkling in his eyes, "little demon, you have proven yourself more than capable of looking after your mother. After all, it appears you were the one to rumble my tosser of a brother, correct?"

She felt her other hand being taken by her mom, who also looked at her proudly. "Yes, she did. Do you want to show Lucifer your case file, Monkey? It's in the"—Mom glanced to the other corner of the apartment, her face falling—"...kitchen." The bright red scrapbook that had previously sat upon the breakfast bar was no longer there, lost somewhere in amongst the chaos.

Trixie didn't care though. She nodded, eagerly taking off to the kitchen in search of all her hard work, breaking up the kind of weird hand holding circle thing they had going on. Dimly, she registered in the back on her mind that Mom and Lucifer were still talking.

"I'll arrange for someone to come and fix this mess before I leave, Detective, you have my word."

"You don't need to do that, Lucifer."

"I want to. None of this would have happened if not for me."

"No. _No._ None of this would have happened if not for _Michael._ You aren't to blame for this, Lucifer. Nobody is apart from him."

 _Bingo_. It only took a minute or two of searching before she found the file, hidden under the shoe rack where it had fallen during the scuffle. Throwing various pairs of sneakers and boots out of the way, she pulled it out and dusted off the cover, bending the corners back where it had creased. She wanted Lucifer to be impressed with it, and knowing what a neat freak he was…

Finally satisfied, she returned to the living area and stared pointedly at the Devil until he finally got the hint, shuffling over a bit, allowing her to squeeze in between them. She felt his arm stretch over the back on the sofa behind her head though, and a few seconds later, Mom did the same. She tilted her head back as far as she could go, grinning when she saw they were both holding hands.

"Hmm, now this looks interesting," Lucifer said, swiping up the book with his free hand. He ran his finger along the label, pausing when he got to the 'H' in his name. Tapping the book once, he chided, "I'm still not telling you what it stands for, you know."

Trixie giggled, and Mom motioned for him to give the book back. "I want to see too," she said, and after that, Trixie had the file back in her lap before she could blink. Damn, and she thought _she_ was good at getting what she wanted. It looked like Mom could teach her a trick or two. Unless her powers of persuasion only worked on Lucifer, that is…

Something struck her then. "But Mom, you've already looked at it," she pointed out, baffled as to why her mom would want to read it again so soon.

"Well," she replied, letting go of Lucifer's hand for a moment to drop it around Trixie's shoulder, drawing her a little closer, into a kind of half-cuddle. "I have a bit of a confession to make there… I didn't."

Trixie glanced between the two of them, her eyebrows knitted together, noting that Lucifer appeared just as surprised as she felt. "But… you believed me," she said. She _knew_ she did. Why else would she have confronted Michael? Besides, she'd seen Mom with the book in her hand at the time.

"I did," Mom confirmed, "the second I saw the first page. That glimpse was all it took, after that, I didn't need to read any further." At Trixie's clear uncertainty, Mom pulled her legs up underneath her, twisting around so they could both see her clearly as she explained.

"A long time ago," she started, her eyes drifting from Trixie to Lucifer, "somebody gave me the best piece of advice I've ever received. They told me I needed to trust myself. And so I did. I looked at the evidence, and if it didn't add up, I followed my instincts. But… somewhere along the way, and I don't even know _why_ , I stopped. I didn't listen to my gut anymore, I only saw what was in front of me. And sometimes, I saw only what I wanted to see."

She sighed, and Trixie felt the cushion move behind her as Lucifer stretched out his hand once more. Mom took it with a small, grateful smile. "And then I made the worst mistake of my life. A man showed me what he said was proof that someone I loved, the same person who told me to trust myself in the first place, wasn't who I thought he was. And even though I knew, in my heart, that it wasn't true, I believed him."

A tear snaked its way down Mom's cheek, and Trixie had to duck out of the way as Lucifer leaned over to wipe it away. Mom shook her head, her eyes shining. "But because of that, I learned a lesson. Trusting yourself… it also means trusting the people you love. And I love no one more than you, Trixie," she said, dropping an arm around again and pulling her into a proper hug, leaving the book balancing precariously on her lap. " _No one."_

Lucifer moved closer, and from her position, squashed against her mom's chest, her head leaning back, she saw him snake his arm around Mom's shoulder. For a minute, they stayed that way, the three of them as close as they had ever been.

Eventually though, someone had to say something, so she decided it may as well be her. "Not even Lucifer?" she asked cheekily, angling her head back so she could see his face.

"Welllll," Mom drawled slowly, "he comes a close second, I guess."

She laughed at the way Lucifer pretended to be offended, until he smiled, offering up a quiet, "Quite right, too, Detective."

"The point is, Trixie," her mom continued, gently guiding her attention back with a hand on her cheek, "you believed that Lucifer wasn't Lucifer, and I believe in you. That's why I didn't need to look."

Trixie didn't know what to say. It wasn't until she felt the wetness on her hands that she realised she was crying, but they were tears of happiness, not sadness. It was finally all over, and she'd helped fix it. All except the fact that Lucifer had to go.

"Shall we take a gander then?" Lucifer prompted, another reminder that their time together was running short. She sniffled, and went to wipe her nose with the back of her hand. Lucifer took hold of her arm, stopping her in mid-air, and reached for a pocket square that wasn't even there. His hand hovered over his shirt, his expression lost, but by the time Mom passed her a tissue from the box on the coffee table, it was as though the moment never happened at all.

Trixie wished she could get him a jacket before he left, and a pocket square too. It didn't seem right that he had to go back to Hell without them. Not that it was right that he had to go back there at _all_.

But that time wasn't now. Right now, they were together, and that was what she focused on as she opened the book, taking them through her discoveries page by page. Lucifer was in his element; mocking Michael's choice of outfit—" _I must have been with you the day I bought that suit, Detective, as it appears I became colourblind"_ —gloating over the fact _nobody_ in Heaven could sing as well as him, never mind his twin, and he remaining completely mystified that she seemed to think there was any difference at all between Michael's art skills and his own.

It was mid-way through a rant about people who couldn't drive stick though that he suddenly stopped talking, looking down at her in alarm. "He… he didn't actually _try_ to drive the Corvette, did he?"

Trixie winced, remembering the phone conversation she had with Patrick when she asked him to check on the car. The expression on Lucifer's face changed to one of horror. "Patrick said he'd get it fixed?" she said, trying to console him. His left hand, the one that wasn't holding Mom's again, twitched against his thigh.

"You want to phone Patrick, don't you?" Mom teased lightly, already digging her phone out of her pocket. Lucifer nodded eagerly, not bothered about her poking fun at him in the slightest.

"I can't leave without making sure everything most precious to me is cared for, Detective," he said, catching the phone as Mom tossed it across, and immediately unlocking it. Trixie hid a giggle behind her hand. It seemed she wasn't the only one who knew her mom's pin code.

He stood abruptly from the sofa, already busy dialing the number for LUX, but when he looked down at them both, he halted, lowering the phone to his side. Hesitantly, he placed a hand on the top of Trixie's head. "Well done, Beatrice," he said, for the second time since he arrived. "Excellent work." And of course, he didn't lie, so she knew that he really meant it, leaving her feeling filled with pride.

And then, he ruined it by patting her on the head like a dog.

Some things never changed.

As he walked away, talking non-stop as he made arrangements for his car, their apartment, and who knows what else, Mom took the case file from her, closing it and running one finger over where Trixie had written her name. "Looks like we have another detective in the family," she said, nudging her with an elbow.

Trixie beamed back at her. "Well, I learned from the best!"

In the background, Lucifer placed a hand over the phone for a second. "She means you, Detective, not the douche!" he called out, before going back to his conversation. His voice still drifted across the room though, loud enough as they could hear him say, " _Yes, well, any minute now, actually…"_

She looked up at her mom with wide eyes. "It is time to say goodbye already?" she asked, dreading the answer. She wasn't ready. She would never be ready.

Mom nodded. "I think it is, sweetheart. But—"

"It might not be forever."

They both jumped a little, neither having realised that Lucifer had returned, Mom's phone in his hand as he offered it back to her. After she took it, he left his arm extended, before offering one to Trixie as well. Once their hands were secured in his, he guided them from the sofa, out into the garden, or what was left of it, anyway.

 _Here's where we say goodbye_.

"I wasn't going to say anything," he said, appearing anxious. "But, I find myself unable to leave… not without you knowing…"

"What is it, Lucifer?" Mom urged, a hand upon his arm.

"I'm close," he blurted out. "I've been working… trying to find a way to _fix_ things. A way to stop the demons from ever returning to Earth again."

He started talking rapidly then, animatedly explaining about the gates of Hell, and how he'd been finding ways to close them off, one by one. From what he was saying, it had taken him centuries, but now… "There's only one left."

Both she and Mom spoke at the same time. "The North gate."

Lucifer grinned at them both. "Exactly! But"—he grimaced a little, the confidence he had just moments ago dimming—"the North gate is different. It is the way within which all souls enter Hell."

Mom made a sound, but Lucifer carried on talking before she could actually say anything. "And no, I can't just close it completely. Souls couldn't enter Hell, but they wouldn't gain entrance to Heaven, either. It would be chaos. The consequences for Earth could be worse than the demons."

"So what does that mean?" Mom asked, her arms now folded around herself. Trixie moved closer, wrapping her fingers around her wrist, trying to comfort her.

"It means, that I need to find a way to close it to everything but celestials and human souls. And that… is complicated. The North gate is unique, in that it contains elements of Hell, Heaven, and Earth. I cannot find a solution solely in Hell."

"How can there be a part of Heaven in Hell?" Trixie asked, increasing her hold on Mom, hoping to lessen the trembling she could feel running through her. Whether it was from excitement or worry, she couldn't tell.

He chuckled wryly. "The gate was created when I fell," he said, his gaze distant. "My body passed through all the realms, dragging a little piece of each with me. If you look hard enough, you can still see the light of the Silver City through it. The only light to be found in Hell. It's one of the reasons I built my throne so high in the beginning… so I could still see something of what once was my home."

Mom took a step nearer, uncrossing her arms and looping them around his neck. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, holding him tightly. After a moment, his hands came up to rest on her lower back, and he closed his eyes as he leaned into her touch.

"Thank you, darling," he said, "but really, it's been eons. I'm more than over it."

Trixie didn't even need to be able to see her mom's face to know how hard she was rolling her eyes at _that_.

When they separated, their hands remained entwined. "What now then?" Mom said.

"Now, I return, and I get help where I can. Amenadiel should be able to find what I need in Heaven, and, hopefully, I can strike a deal with Maze for her to cover Earth."

"No deals," Trixie said determinedly. "I'll make sure she does it."

Lucifer smiled, pleased. "I'm sure you will, urchin. I knew I could count on you."

Silence fell, and then he looked at Mom sadly. "Chloe…"

"I know," she said, her voice wavering. "You have to go."

"But I'll be back," he assured her. "Somehow, I promise. I'll never give up fighting to come home to you."

He kissed her then, so long and so intensely that Trixie forced herself to stare hard at the remains of what was once an egg chair in the corner of the patio, idly wondering if there was any way of rescuing metal seemingly twisted beyond repair.

Eventually, they parted, both of them breathless. "I love you," her mom said softly, and that was the point at which Trixie turned back to them. She saw the look of awe on Lucifer's face, and she knew then she had to say something as well, just in case she never got the chance to again.

"Me too!" she exclaimed loudly, thrilled to find that he looked down at her with that same kind of puzzled amazement.

"Me too…?" he repeated, his eyes constantly shifting between her and her mom, disbelief all over his face.

She shrugged. "Of course I love you too, dumbass. We're family, aren't we?"

He looked dumbfounded. "Family," he murmured, rolling the word around in his mouth, as if he were trying it out for size.

"She's right, you know," Mom said, smiling up at him. She waited for him to look at her, his eyes still full of wonder. "You are a dumbass."

He laughed, long and hard, and when he was done, he appeared shocked, as though it were the first time in forever he had done so. Perhaps it was.

"Yes. Well," he said, shaking himself out of it. "The sentiment is… I mean to say…"

Mom smiled even wider. "You don't need to say it, Lucifer. I already know." She glanced at Trixie. " _We_ already know."

He looked a little lost, and they both took pity on him, moving so that they all joined hands once more. With a single roll of his shoulders, Lucifer unfurled his wings, and this time, they were the wings that she remembered, pure white feathers seem to instinctively curl forward around them both, tickling against her back.

"I best be off then," he said, and despite the cheery tone he was trying for, she could hear the regret that coloured each word.

"Soon though," her mom said. It wasn't a question.

"As soon as I possibly can, my darling," he replied. "You have my word."

Mom nodded, satisfied. She looked stronger now, and if Mom could be strong, then so could Trixie. Plastering on a smile, she tried her best to be brave. "See you later then, Lucifer," she said, "and don't take too long, okay?"

She didn't think Mom could take it if he did. Not again.

"I shall do my utmost not to, urchin," he assured her. "And…" he looked down to where their hands were joined. "You're right. I do. Both of you."

He let go, taking a step backwards. "Soon," he nodded.

And then he was gone.

For what felt like an eternity, they both stood there, staring at the empty space he had left behind. Mom's hand trembled against hers, but before she could ask if she was alright, Mom crouched down, pulling her into a hug.

Despite all Lucifer said, she had to ask, had to hear her mom say it as well. "He will come back, won't he, Mom?"

Her mom nodded, even managing to smile a little, despite the tears in her eyes. "He'll be back, Monkey. He promised, didn't he?"

"And Lucifer doesn't break promises."

"Exactly. We just need to be patient, that's all."

"But…" her mind raced, going over everything Lucifer had said. "If part of the solution is here on Earth, can't you find a way to help him? There's got to be something…"

Mom stared at her, until suddenly, her smile grew bigger, the tears that had been threatening to fall replaced by a new light. "You know what? I think maybe you're right. Maybe there _is_ something I can do to help. I just need to find out what, that's all."

Trixie brightened, pleased to have found a way to help both Lucifer _and_ her mom.

"But…" Mom continued, and her heart sank a little. "In order to do that… I'm going to need a partner. Do you know anyone up for the job?"

It took a few seconds, but when she realised what her mom was hinting at, excitement like nothing she'd ever felt flooded through her. "I could do it?" she asked, and when her mom nodded, she practically bounced off the floor.

Mom rose to her feet, offering her hand out for Trixie to take. "Come on then, partner, we've got some investigating to do. You ready?"

She had never been more ready for anything in her life.

Together, they walked back into the apartment, already discussing plans for who to ask for help, where to get information. They would start with Amenadiel, and then...

As Mom continued to brainstorm aloud, Trixie stopped for a moment. Looking at the ground, she concentrated her thoughts below.

" _Samael,"_ she prayed, " _Don't worry. We're going to bring you home, Lucifer."_

" _Detective Trixie is on the case."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to add an epilogue to this, so keep an eye out for it in a couple of days!


	8. Epilogue

It was another six months before they saw him again.

Six months of investigation, of trying to help in any way they could. Most days after school would see Trixie in the penthouse, cross legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, homework pushed to one side in favour of whatever manuscript or religious text she was currently pouring over. Half of the books Amenadiel and Maze brought back from the Silver City and various locations around the Earth were in languages she couldn't read, but Amenadiel taught her enough Latin and Sumerian as she could recognise words such as _Hell, gate, seal, Earth, Heaven, power_ … and Google translate did the rest. Kind of.

Anything she found, she passed on up the chain for full translation, and once that was done, Amenadiel would deliver it to Lucifer. Maze had returned with him from her 'vacation' after two months, just as Trixie was starting to get worried they would never see her again. Her friend seemed lighter than she had in a long time, which might have concerned her even more, if not for the fact that she announced almost the second she walked through the door that she was now officially done with Hell for good. Apparently, while the walk down memory lane was enjoyable, as was the time she spent with Michael, all it did was confirm that her home was here on Earth now.

It was just unfortunate that, judging by the look on her mom's face, Maze's 'enjoyable' time with Michael was something she would never be allowed to hear about.

That was okay though.

She could imagine.

After that, Maze split her time between hunting down anything Lucifer requested she find on Earth, and bounty hunting. Sometimes, both at the same time. Trixie actually got to join her on one of her trips, and even better, she found an artefact in the warehouse they visited together—and most certainly _not_ broken into, as far as her mom was concerned—that they weren't even there to find. It was something she recognised from her research, and when they presented it to Amenadiel, he seemed _very_ excited about it. So excited, in fact, that he took off to Hell that very same day.

Trixie always looked forward to Amenadiel's trips to Hell. Or rather, to his return. Without fail, there would always be some sort of package from Lucifer; letters for Mom that would sometimes leave her crying tears of joy, and other times make her go so red in the face that she would either immediately stuff the letter in her handbag, or hide it in her room if they were at home. For her, there would often be a present of some kind, although Lucifer's options in Hell were few and far between. On her birthday though, she received not one pair of Hell-forged blades, but a whole set in different sizes, that would last her until she was big enough to comfortably handle the same style as Maze's.

And without fail, there would _always_ be a selection of paintings. Lucifer may have been trying to find a way out, but over thousands of years, he still had spare time, and that meant plenty of opportunities to practice. In one of his letters he even said he planned to start training with Picasso, such was his determination to prove once and for all that he was just as talented as his brother.

Spoiler alert: he still wasn't. As it turns out, cubism does nothing for stick figures.

But when Amenadiel returned after delivering the artefact she found, he had nothing with him except a hastily written note; a note that filled Mom with such excitement her smile after reading it was almost blinding. Despite her being much too heavy for this sort of thing now, she scooped Trixie up in a hug, spinning her around until they were both breathless. Once she was safely back on the ground again, Mom handed the note over. "We did it, Monkey," she said proudly, as she placed it in her hands.

There on the page, was one simple sentence.

_I'm coming home._

...

Two weeks later, there was a knock on the door.

Mom was there before Trixie could even think of getting up from the sofa. It was the same every day since Lucifer's letter; the slightest sound outside of the apartment and Mom would rush to open the door, or peer out of the windows. But today… today was different.

Lucifer stood there, windswept and disheveled, his suit still lightly coated in ash. She could see it smudged against his forehead, from where he had obviously tried to tame his hair while waiting for Mom to let him in. He looked tired, but so, so happy.

"We did it," he said, his grin only growing larger as he took in the sight of her mom. "We bloody well did it!"

He opened his arms wide, only to have the smile wiped right off his face when Mom grabbed him by the collar and yanked him forwards. But to Trixie's surprise— _and his,_ she could see—Mom didn't kiss him. Instead, she dragged him through the apartment, his long limbs flailing as he stumbled behind her, until finally, she pushed him down onto one of the dining room chairs.

"...Detective?" he said cautiously, as Mom rounded the table until she stood opposite. Leaning forward, she slammed her hands down on the wooden surface, causing Lucifer to jump.

"What's my middle name?" she demanded. Lucifer lifted an eyebrow at the question, but just as he went to respond, Mom shook her head. "No, wait, don't answer that. That one's too easy."

She tapped her nails on the table, and suddenly, Lucifer brightened, his confusion vanishing. "Ooo, am I being interrogated?" he said excitedly. "Do you want to handcuff me to the table, Detective? Because I'm more than game if you are."

Mom glared at him, and he mimed zipping his lips shut.

"What's my favourite coffee order?"

"Tall, non-fat almond milk latte with sugar-free caramel drizzle," he rattled off. "No vodka. Although, if I _were_ Michael, I could just ask Miss. Lopez for that information, you know."

"Which is probably exactly what he did…" Mom muttered, rubbing her temples. "I forgot."

Lucifer tilted his chair back as he relaxed, the perfect picture of nonchalance. "Should I start pointing out the hair, the perfectly folded pocket square?" he said, gesturing at himself. "Neither of which my style-phobic brother could achieve, I assure you. And don't even get me started on the _face."_

Mom stopped trying to soothe her headache for a moment, and stared at him in amazement. "Okay. So, first of all, your hair is a mess right now. And second, _you look the same."_

He sat up straight then, the chair legs sharply hitting the floor as it righted itself. "You take that back."

Shaking her head, Mom ignored him. "Okay then, smart-ass, what was the... 43rd case we solved together?"

Lucifer closed his eyes, frowning as he concentrated. Then he let out a quiet, _"Ah-ha!"_ before opening them again. "It was the one with the clowns, wasn't it? Tell me, Detective, did you ever find those masks that went missing from evidence?" he said, grinning for some reason that Trixie didn't understand.

"No, we didn't," her mom said irritably, "And before you say anything else, yes, I know you took them, and _no_ , I do not need to know who, or _what_ , for."

Lucifer laughed knowingly, his eyes twinkling as he obviously prepared to add something else… but then he halted, tilting his head to the side with a smirk. "Wait a minute. You didn't say if I got it right. Surely it can't be that you don't actually know the answer yourself, Detective?"

"Shut up, Lucifer."

Trixie tried to hold back her giggle as her mom pulled away from the table with a barely audible, _"Urgh."_ She turned her back on Lucifer, who slid out from the table, quietly approaching her from behind. When he put his hand on Mom's shoulders, she froze, but he didn't seem to mind, taking one step closer until he was able to lower his head to her ear.

"I know who you are, Detective. You are Chloe Jane Decker," he said steadily, just loud enough for Trixie to hear, "and you are selfless, to a nauseating degree. You always put your daughter first. You bring justice to those who deserve it. You are the Devil's first love, and he will love you until his dying breath. Which, around you, could be at any second."

He smiled at the sound of Mom's small chuckle, before carefully turning her in his arms, until she was looking up at him from where he held her close, pressed up against his chest.

"But I don't care, Chloe," he said, brushing a lock of hair back behind her ear. "Because you're worth it. _We_ are worth it."

Mom buried her face into his suit, and despite all he had said, Trixie could still see fear there in her eyes.

"But what if you're just telling me what I want to hear?" she choked out quietly, uncaring about the ash that now coated her skin.

Lucifer released her enough as he could step back slightly, using a hand to gently lift her face to his. "Darling, I can't tell you _everything_ I know you want to hear right now," he said, shaking his head sadly. "There's a _child_ in the room."

Mom's laughter was sudden and unexpected, and it didn't end until she gave a sudden snort that had Lucifer laughing just as joyously in return. When they both quieted, they looked at each other for a moment, and Trixie knew then that it was definitely time to turn back to the television. The last thing she saw before starting to pretend that Mom and Lucifer didn't exist was her mom throwing her arms around Lucifer's neck, his name a whisper on her lips.

After a few minutes, and several goes at turning the television volume up in not-so-silent protest, Trixie heard Lucifer speak.

"Urchin," he said, Mom standing by his side, hand in hand. "I believe it's you I have to thank for finding the key to my return."

In less than a second, she muted the show she was watching, spinning around on the sofa to face them both. "Really?" she asked excitedly. She had to admit, what with everything managing to happen so fast following her discovery, she did wonder if she'd been the one to crack the case, but for him to actually confirm it...

He nodded. "It was exactly what I needed. You did well, Spawn."

And with that, to her amazement, he lowered himself to his knees, and after letting go of Mom's hand, opened his arms.

At first, she didn't even move, too shocked by the sight to even comprehend it. But just as the first flicker of doubt began to cross his face, she was on the move, vaulting over the back of the sofa and launching herself across the room. He caught her with ease when they collided, but rather than the brick wall she usually attempted to hug, he leaned into it, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly. Seconds later, Mom joined in as best she could, nearly bowling them both over in the process.

 _This is it now,_ Trixie thought, visions of the future running through her head. _This is how things were going to be, how they were always supposed to be._

Mum and Lucifer. Dad. Maze, Auntie Linda, Auntie Ella, Amenadiel and Charlie. They were all family now.

A family that would last. A family that would be happy, as long as they were together.

And it started... with a hug.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my betas [Kay_Kat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kay_kat/pseuds/Kay_kat) & [azure_iolite.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azure_iolite)
> 
> Find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NotOneLineFF) and [Tumblr](https://notonelineff.tumblr.com/) for sneak peeks and Lucifer chat.


End file.
